


i don't need to remember who i was to know i loved you

by LarrysLittleSecrets



Category: One Direction (Band), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Always, Fluff and Angst?, M/M, almost everything is the same except everyone's pretty gay, changing perspectives but it's mainly louis', i've never done this before so bear with me, maze runner larry au, minho is the adorable fifth wheel, newtmas too, the maze scorch and death cure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarrysLittleSecrets/pseuds/LarrysLittleSecrets
Summary: louis, harry, newt and thomas have long since given up on WICKED's cause. they work from the inside to destroy everything WICKED stands for, but it doesn't exactly go as planned. cue the constant running for their lives, feelings they have no memory of developing—all the while trying to remember the truth without drowning in the lies.or, the maze runner larry/newtmas not-so-much-an-au-au where i manage to simultaneously merge two of my favourite fandoms together in the hope that it works out.





	1. pre-maze

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this fic for a while, but i've never had the courage to post it—or any of my work, really. something about this particular piece, though, inspired a certain confidence in me so i thought, why not? and pressed upload without a second thought. 
> 
> if you can't tell already, i prefer to write in lowercase. this means that most of my work is also in lowercase. just a pre-warning, but there aren't even any exceptions when it comes to names (shocker, i know). 
> 
> quite a large portion of the speech and events in this fic follow the film, but there are frequent changes here and there to fit my plotline. as mentioned in the tags, its mostly in louis' POV, but it alternates throughout the book. 
> 
> now, without further ado, i present to you: the larry/newtmas au of my dreams. enjoy!

louis knew what was coming next. he’d watched as thomas begged and pleaded, tears streaming down his face as they pulled newt away. he’d had to hold thomas back when he saw the surrounding guards clutch their guns, apathy painted across all of their faces. they felt no remorse, and it was the knowledge of that very fact that had louis clutching thomas to him tighter, his own eyes pooling with tears as thomas' cries became painful. harry had run up to the two of them then, yanking on louis’ arm. he was saying something, eyes frantic, but louis couldn’t hear him over thomas’ shouts. the next thing he knew harry was dragging them away, relentless in his grip as he pulled them into an unoccupied lab, locking the door behind them. 

“thomas, you need to calm down,” harry said urgently. 

thomas was shaking, eyes red and raw. his voice, when he spoke, was scratchy and broken, “newt, newt, _newt_. harry, they took him!”

“i know,” harry said, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on thomas’ shoulder. “i _know_. but if you don’t want to be next, then you need to calm down. now.”

louis couldn’t understand how harry managed to keep so composed. if it wasn’t for the way his eyebrows knit in sadness louis almost would’ve thought he wasn’t affected. but he knew that couldn’t be true. newt was their friend—their _best_ friend—and anything that happened to him affected all three of them. “harry, what’s happening?” he asked, keeping his own hand on thomas. 

“janson,” he answered, walking quickly to the door. he peeked out through the glass window before turning around, ruffling his hair uneasily. “i don’t know who or how, but someone must’ve overheard us talking, must’ve told janson. he took newt as a warning—they’re threatening us.”

louis could feel his heart speed up. if janson knew what they were planning it could very well end with their deaths. he knew nobody in the building would come to their aid, caring only for the cure they believed to be imbedded within their very skin. they weren’t humans to people like janson, they were lab rats—and if any one of them acted up, they would be dealt with. “so what do we do?” he asked calmly, looking up.

“i’ll kill him,” thomas murmured angrily, fists still shaking. 

“be smart about this, thomas,” harry reprimanded. “the moment you step out of line they’ll wipe your memories and send you into the maze. you’ll be useless to newt, then—you’ll _forget_ him.”

“what am i supposed to do?” thomas asked helplessly, deflating. 

“we stick to the plan,” harry decided, looking at louis—who nodded straight away—for reassurance. “get the plans to mary. get the kids out. destroy WICKED before they destroy us.”

louis spoke up before thomas could. “and newt?” 

“right now, for whatever reason, janson is keeping quiet about what he’s found out. ava and her followers believe we’re still on their side, and we need to keep it that way. we know what happens after the maze. newt will make it out, of course he will—and we’ll be on the other side when he does.” 

louis had always put his faith in harry—and he didn’t hesitate to do it again that time either. thomas was usually the leader, usually the ones to put the plans in motion and deliver the speeches, but he didn’t doubt harry’s words for a second, no matter how distraught he was. the three of them spoke a little longer before exiting cautiously, splitting to go their separate ways with a promise to meet again after lunch, lest their absence be noted. 

 

-

 

a couple months later, they didn’t all make it to lunch. 

louis felt detached. it was almost as if he’d left his body and was watching through a haze as he thrashed around, screaming himself hoarse. he couldn’t move his arms, thomas caging him in from behind. it was an exact replica of that morning weeks ago except this time it was louis being held back by thomas and harry being dragged away. the next couple of minutes were a blur and louis only returned back to himself when thomas held him to his chest, arms tight around him, now away from peering eyes and out of sight. 

“thomas,” he gasped out, holding on to the arms around him that seemed to be the only thing keeping him together. “thomas, i can’t do it without him.”

“i know, louis. trust me, i know,” he whispered softly, guiding them slowly to his bed. he pushed louis down gently, following suit and engulfing him completely. louis more than welcomed the hug, shoving his face into thomas’ shirt and breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. harry’s face came into view—it was stoic as they escorted him away, he recalled, and only now could louis tell that he’d been expecting it. harry had only shaken his head at louis in warning when he attempted to go after him, because he knew they’d take him. 

“he knew,” louis mumbled, wiping at his wet eyes and raising his head. “he knew they were going to take him.” 

thomas nodded gravely. “he told me just before it happened. he was going to tell you too, but they got to him first.”

“he should’ve run. why didn’t he _run_?"

“i asked him the same thing. he said he’d managed to do something to help him remember once he reached the maze, something they would never find.”

louis exhaled a shaky breath. “they’re going to come for us, too.”

thomas shook his head. “no, janson thinks his message has been sent. taking only newt and harry was him showing off. we need to keep playing, keep pretending like we’re on their side.”

“what if they die in there?” louis breathed out fearfully. 

“they won’t,” thomas declared, leaving no room for discussion. “we’ll watch the screens as usual, bide our time, then strike. now more than ever we need to follow through with the plan.”

louis nodded. “for newt and harry,” he said.  

“for all of us,” thomas replied. 

 

-

 

the days dragged on, the nights more so. louis missed harry, felt his absence deeply, as well as newt’s. louis knew thomas felt the same. they ate their meals in companionable silence, watched their friends through the screens, always within arm distance from the other in case whatever was displayed was particularly challenging to watch. it was torture, the way they were both left helpless. newt regarded harry with complete indifference, and harry matched him identically—if it wasn’t for the memories louis knew to be real he’d believe that they’d never met before. louis kept waiting for harry to act out, to remember, yet nothing happened. the days dragged on, and newt grew noticeably sadder. 

it had been eight months before newt jumped. louis had watched the whole thing, thomas beside him. newt had spent days waking up before the rest of the gladers, leaving to stand in front of the doors, watching but never moving until minho and the other runners got up to make their daily trek. he’d leave with them, then, but like clockwork the next day, he’d be up again; only standing, only watching. until the first day of the eighth month, when newt entered the maze on his own. he walked decidedly, stopping a couple of metres in, gazing up at the vines above. he climbed and climbed until he reached the top, and he had no intent of climbing back down

louis and thomas could tell newt had been unhappy—they were sure harry noticed too, a subconscious part of him aware of who newt used to be to him, yet he never spoke a word, sure it wasn’t his place to. they’d watched the nights newt had spent shedding silent tears, and on those days louis had to hold thomas a little closer and a little tighter. but that day broke something within thomas louis knew couldn’t be fixed with a hug—at least not from him. 

thomas turned to the closest scientist, ripping himself out of louis’ grip as he desperately yelled, “stop him, please! he’s going to _die_. you have to intervene!"

the woman looked at him, unimpressed, her eyebrows raised is disgust. thomas let out a growl then, fist pulled back, and louis knew he should’ve stopped him, knew he needed to prevent thomas from attacking the woman—and yet his eyes were glued to the screen. there newt lay, unmoving and motionless, his leg twisted grotesquely. louis wasn’t aware of what was happening behind him, couldn’t hear thomas’ anguished scream as he was dragged away from newt once again, could only see his friend’s seemingly lifeless body. 

it seemed an eternity before there was movement on the screen. a figure came in to view—minho. louis didn’t know what woke him up, and he didn’t care—he only prayed that minho had come in time, that the fall wasn’t fatal because louis wouldn’t know how to help thomas after that, wouldn’t even know how to help himself. minho shook newt’s frail form lightly and louis wasn’t even aware that he was holding his breath, only knew that the pressure in his chest loosened when he saw newt open his eyes; saw that he was breathing, moving; _alive_.

“thomas, he’s oka-“ louis cut himself off. thomas was no longer behind him—he wasn’t in the room at all. in his place stood janson, who was staring down at him with a smirk. 

“thomas needed to take a little break,” he said cooly, edging closer. it took all of louis’ willpower to remain where he was. “doesn’t do well to have the subjects attacking the researchers now, does it?” 

“subjects,” louis repeated, clenching his hands into fists. he shook his head, eyes flickering to the screen where newt was being carried to the medjacks, before planting them back on janson’s twisted face. “where is he?” 

“being detained, tomlinson. if you want to join him, be my guest.” he motioned towards the guards flanking the door, smirk turning sinister. 

louis wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. instead, he shook his head sharply and turned his back. “i have work to do.”

he could feel the smile janson was burning in to his back. “good choice,” he sung sweetly, and louis pretended to be typing away at his screen, back rigid and tense until he heard retreating steps and the door opening and closing, signalling his exit. he knew he needed to get to thomas, to tell him newt was okay, but he had no doubt the guards were given clear instructions to watch him. so louis stayed, worked, and pretended he was eyeing the clock in wait for lunch. 

 

-

 

louis knew who he needed help from in order to get to thomas. _teresa_. he’d never liked her—she’d always carried an air of superiority with her wherever she went, seemingly above the rest of the ’subjects' even though she was a part of them. if he could help it, he’d avoid her at all costs, but she was ava’s left hand man—she had access to areas others didn’t have—as well as a bond with thomas louis had never understood. louis needed her; and just as well, he knew where she’d be. 

louis waited ten minutes before he managed to duck out of the canteen unseen. he figured he’d have about another five minutes before his absence was noted and someone came looking for him. it was a short time span considering the labs were on the other side of the building, but he would have to make it work. taking quick, frantic steps, louis ducked into the elevator just as the doors began closing. his heart was racing, but he schooled his features into casual indifference, pretending like he belonged there as he walked out onto the twenty-second floor. 

he’d only ever been to this side of the building exactly once before—thomas had dragged him, newt and harry along to watch as they injected their newly concocted version of the cure into a random man with high hopes and the disease, so sure, as they had been each time before that, that they’d finally done it. they hadn’t, of course. 

louis took so many lefts and rights he was sure he was lost, relying only on his very unreliant memory. he was about to turn around, take a different route, when his eye caught on the flash of brunette hair, undoubtably teresa’s. in his haste to catch up to her he almost tripped over his own feet, but he managed to right himself in time and jog a little faster. 

“teresa!” he called out, as quiet as he could manage, though his voice still echoed off the walls. luckily, there was no one else around. the brunette paused, looking around confusedly before her eyes landed on louis and her brows furrowed even further. 

“louis?” she said, taking a hesitant step towards him. “what are you doing here?”

louis didn’t feel like beating around the bush. “thomas,” was all he said, but it was enough—worry immediately filled her face. no matter what louis thought about her, he knew that she genuinely cared for thomas, and that was the only reason he continued speaking. “newt, something happened to him in the maze and he acted out, punched one of the women in the room. janson had him taken away—the cells, i think. i need to get to him, tell him newt’s okay before he does anything that’ll land him in serious trouble.”

“the cells?” she repeated, just as an announcement sounded out overhead. it was janson, and louis was being called to return to his duties. 

“fuck,” louis mumbled, glancing behind him to see the distant figures of approaching guards. “teresa, you need to get to him. tell him newt’s okay.” teresa nodded slowly, backing away as the guards got closer. louis went with them obediently, glancing back to see her nod again, this time with determination. “thank you,” he mouthed, and she left, rounding the corner. 

 

-

 

it was two more days before thomas was released. louis was being watched, even more so than usual. he couldn’t attempt to go to teresa, to find out if she’d managed to get word to thomas; he was escorted to the canteen when it was time to eat, and escorted back to the bunkers and camera rooms without any detours. it was two long days of watching newt spread out in the medhut, his leg wrapped with a makeshift splint, pain covering his features. louis ached for him, wanted no more than to jump through the screen and hug his friend. harry did nothing more than what he usually did, and louis was growing increasingly anxious. two days, and thomas was finally released. 

louis spotted him right away when he entered the canteen for lunch. he hadn’t even known thomas had been released and yet there he was, sat in his usual place, head down and in his arms. louis was starving, had barely eaten since thomas was away, but he opted for walking straight past the food in order to reach his friend. 

“tom,” he rushed out once he’d grabbed a seat beside him. 

thomas raised his head immediately, relief washing over his face. he looked awful, was the first thing louis noticed. bags hung deeply under his eyes and he was incredibly pale, skin tinging an awful shade of white. “louis,” thomas breathed out, slinging a shaky arm around his shoulders. he pulled him in for a hug and exhaled sharply. “you’re okay.”

louis’ brows furrowed. he placed tentative hands against thomas’ face. he was burning up. “of course i’m okay. what happened in there?”

“i think i had some kind of breakdown. teresa managed snap me out of it when she told me newt survived.”

“you need to get checked out,” louis said, rising.

thomas shook his head fervently, pulling him down with strength louis didn’t think he had just then. “no, _no_ —i have to see him. jesus—i, louis,  _i have to see him_."

louis could see and feel how unwell thomas was—he was pale, shivering and sweating. every logical bone in his body demanded he ignore thomas’ request and get him help, but he couldn’t. so louis nodded instead, and pulled his friend that much closer. “okay, tom, okay. we’ll go see him.”

 

-

 

they were back in their bunker. with harry and newt gone, their four-bedded room had felt empty. with newt, harry _and_ thomas gone, the room was lifeless. louis hated those two nights, hated how loud his thoughts sounded in the quiet room. 

thomas headed straight for his bed the second they were inside, collapsing at once. sleep, the doctor said he needed. he’d driven himself exhausted with worry, and he needed to get some rest. thomas had only agreed to be seen by the doctor once he’d made sure newt was alive and okay with his own very eyes. he’d stumbled hazardously to the camera room and almost knocked himself and their peers over in his haste to find the right screen. once he saw newt as louis had left him, laying down but breathing, he crashed to the floor, and had to be carried to the closest check-up room, louis tailing behind. 

louis left him to sleep. he wanted to talk, ask what their next plan of action was, how much longer they had to wait—but thomas’ health came first. so he grabbed the nearest blanket and gently placed it over the softly snoring boy, following suit and laying down in his own bed. attempting to sleep was a useless feat, he knew. harry was the only one who’d helped with that, staying awake to discuss anything and everything until louis felt tired and passed out. without him, louis had to listen to his own thoughts endlessly until he finally managed to get a couple of hours in. it was never satisfying, but it was enough. 

louis missed him. he missed harry, and he missed newt. he missed all the other friends that had been ripped away from him and placed in the maze. alby, minho, gally, ben, winston, fry—the list was so long and yet longer still. louis also mourned. he mourned the friends who hadn’t been strong enough to survive the maze; the ones who’d died—whether at the hands of grievers or their own, as newt had tried to do not so long ago. 

he knew what this path led him to. louis felt the familiar anger boiling in his stomach. he hated WICKED, hated the way that they exploited him and his friends for the sake of their own selfish purposes. and louis wasn’t cruel or stupid—he knew they were searching for a cure to save all of humanity. but was a cure really worth it when their means were inhumane? when they didn’t so much as blink an eye in the way of human sacrifice? louis wasn’t cruel or stupid—and that was exactly why he didn’t believe in WICKED’s cause.

it was an excruciating night of doubt, anger and sadness, but it wasn’t anything louis wasn’t used to. this time, he listened to the even sounds of thomas’ breathing and shut his eyes, praying that the image of newt’s broken and frail body would leave him long enough to get a decent amount of rest. 

 

-

 

it had been a year since newt was taken, and eight months since harry was resigned to the same fate. louis and thomas followed a consistent routine every day, never straying. wake up, breakfast, camera room, lunch, sneak off to dig through WICKED classified files, camera room, dinner, discuss the stolen WICKED classified files, bed—and repeat. it was a wonder they hadn’t been caught yet. 

each month a new boy was sent up in the box, and each month louis and thomas had to watch as their friends were ripped away from one another. newt was up and moving, at least. the splint around his leg remained, but he could walk, with the assistance of either crutches or the arms of clint and jeff. in the first couple of months harry had been reserved; as time went on he became more vocal, more inquisitive, but he never asked the right questions. louis was always left wondering if WICKED had managed to find whatever it was harry said would help him remember once he was in the maze. 

they had grown closer, though, newt and harry; almost as if in reflection to louis and thomas who were left to fight the internal war themselves. louis could’ve sworn he’d seen harry stare directly at the beetle bugs as if he knew what lay on the other side, could’ve sworn the hushed murmurs he whispered into newt’s ears was the aftermath of him remembering, but louis couldn’t separate wishful thinking from reality, and so he put it down to just his imagination. 

 

-

 

“it has to be me,” thomas said when they were locked in their room, months later, muffled under the covers. 

louis shook his head adamantly. “no, it doesn’t. you’re ava’s favourite! it only makes sense for you to pull the strings from the outside.” 

“louis, listen to me. we’ve gone through every possible scenario that'll get newt and harry out of there, and none of them would have worked. this is the only way, and it has to be me. it only works _because_ i’m ava’s favourite. she’ll slip up, leave memories in there. she needs me on her side, and that’s the mistake we’re waiting for.” 

“i can’t do this on my own,” louis whispered pathetically. 

thomas nudged him lightly. “yes, you can. lou, you’re the most intuitive out of all of us—you were the one to help us see WICKED for what it really was. we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. now, what do you do once i’ve been taken?”

louis groaned. “how many times do we have to go over this?”

“ _louis_.”

“thomas,” he mocked. when thomas’ face remained passive, he sighed dejectedly. “find teresa, explain what’s happened, get her to leave with me. though i still don’t see why we need to involve her—she’s on _their_ side. how do you know she won’t betray us?” 

“i know you don’t like her, but she only has good intentions,” thomas said, rubbing his temples. louis knew he was frustrated—it wasn’t the first time he’d had to answer that very same question—but he couldn’t help it. he knew teresa cared for thomas, but she also had faith in WICKED—and faith in the wrong people always meant bad news, especially when they believed they were doing the right thing. “please, just—“

“okay,” louis cut him off, shoving his hand against thomas’ mouth, effectively shutting him up. “i get it. you’re obsessed with her, you love her—blah blah blah. now get out of my bed, i want to sleep.”

thomas rolled his eyes but complied. the two emerged from beneath the covers, thomas leaving to flop down onto his own bed while louis shifted so he was on his left, facing him.

“i miss them so much,” he mumbled softly, closing his eyes, knowing exactly how thomas’ face had twisted into its familiar sadness, a look louis was sure was reflected on his own features. 

thomas didn’t say anything for a while, and louis almost thought he’d fallen asleep. “they won’t remember us,” he whispered eventually, so very quiet louis would’ve missed it had he not been so attuned to him. 

and louis didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t. it was silent for a little while longer before thomas sighed and shifted around, breaths eventually evening out. louis counted the rise and fall of thomas’ chest until his eyes became droopy and he had no choice but to shut them again. this time, harry’s smile swam in to view and louis could find no comfort within it. 

 

-

 

louis tried his hardest to remain unperturbed. the alarms were blaring, the lights flickering a dangerous red, and thomas, at the very centre of it, was being held down by two officials, five guards surrounding them, all with their guns poised at him. thomas didn’t attempt to escape. he stood, limp, as janson came storming down the corridor, ava paige in tow. and louis—hidden behind their bunker door, peering through the little glass window—was terrified for him. 

the door between him and the others made for an annoying interference, but louis could just about make out the muffled words being spoken. 

“what did you send?” it was janson. his hand was clenched tightly around his gun but he was holding back—for ava’s sake, louis was sure. 

thomas didn’t say a word, only stared straight ahead in defiance. ava turned to janson and said something unintelligible from louis’ position behind the door. the next thing he knew, janson’s head was turned to face him, and louis didn’t have enough time to duck down out of sight. he knew what was coming next, so he backed away from the door just in time before it slammed open violently. 

“tomlinson!” he said cheerily, clamping a tight fist around louis’ shoulder and dragging him out. “come join the party.”

thomas’ stoic demeanour faltered, but only for a second. “he’s not a part of this,” he said calmly, ripping his hand out of one of the officials’ grip.

janson tutted. “ah, but of course he is.” he turned his devilish smirk on louis, fingers tightening where he had him trapped. "tell me, louis. what did you two little shits send out?”

louis was prepared for this. he furrowed his brow in faux-confusion, shaking his head slowly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“louis.” it was ava. she spoke softly, gently, almost motherly, and louis had never hated a sound more. he knew what she was trying to achieve. she fed on the vulnerability of parentless kids, gaining their trust by pretending to fill in the gap left behind, only to squash it and them whenever she pleased. "we’re not the enemy here. WICKED is good, remember? whatever lies thomas has fed you is nothing but the overactive imagination of a child. whatever you know, you must tell us—for the greater good.”

god, louis hated her. he wanted no more than to grab the nearest gun and aim it straight at her and janson’s cold, empty hearts. every word that came out of her mouth sickened him and yet, louis had a job to do. so he nodded along with what she said, and looked at janson carefully. “i’m on your side. whatever thomas has done, he’s done on his own. WICKED is good. why would i do anything to sabotage that?”

louis felt satisfaction in watching the snarl on janson’s face grow feral. he knew the truth, is the thing—knew louis had long since given up on WICKED and its lost cause—but he had no proof. and with ava paige standing directly beside him, there was nothing he could do. for once, he was powerless, and louis revelled in that knowledge as much as he could. 

“you know what happens next, then,” ava said sadly—and louis didn’t for one second believe it was genuine. “we clear his memories. put him in the box. send him to the maze.”

louis shrugged, finally meeting thomas’ eyes with calculated coldness. “all in the name of a cure.”

 

-

 

thomas had run. the second he’d been pulled out of the box, he’d dashed passed the rest of the boys and ran as far as he could—but not before his eyes landed on newt with vague acknowledgment. louis knew it meant nothing, that it was no more than a familiar spark—thomas’ subconscious remembered newt, but he didn’t. nevertheless, the two of them were drawn to one another, that much was obvious. at the gladers’ monthly bonfire, newt had made it his business to ensure thomas was properly settled, taking time to answer his questions in an attempt to calm him—something he hadn’t done for any of the other new gladers. louis watched as the two walked off to settle down against a faraway log, separate from the rest of the boys—and louis’d almost have believed that the two of them remembered one another, given the glances they shared. but newt’s confusion won out, and he got up abruptly, breaking the moment. 

harry had officially taken a role with the medjacks. louis always knew it would happen, was only a matter of time—harry had vast knowledge of the human anatomy, his head always in one science book or another. because of it, he was sent to keep a watchful eye on newt, who no longer needed the assistance of the splint but had the tendency to work harder than he should, causing himself unnecessary pain. newt would never accept harry’s help, of course, but louis knew he was grateful for his presence all those times he’d fallen over awfully—and he was sure harry knew it, too.

for louis, though, it was more nights spent completely alone. he wished beyond anything that he could speed the plan up, but if he thought he was being watched before, he had no clue what to call this new level of extra security. his meals were delivered to him, lest he, “taint the young, innocent minds of your remaining friends,” as janson so kindly put it; any notes he made on the conditions of the gladers in the camera room were cross-checked, and his bed was searched daily. getting to teresa was harder than ever, and louis was losing his mind. 

so when teresa turned up in his room just after the guard had left with louis’ untouched lunch tray, he was definitely surprised. 

she shut the door behind her, and turned on him, advancing quickly. “what the hell did he do?”

louis definitely didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. “so you heard.” 

“of course i bloody heard!” she hissed, running her hands through her hair agitatedly. “it’s not often the goddamn alarm goes blaring off.”

“how did you get in?” he asked instead of an explanation. 

she scoffed. “easy. said you had information i needed on the proportionality of heart rate and amygdala activation.” 

“of course.” he laughed humorously. "why didn’t i think of that?”

teresa shot him a dirty look. “thomas,” she said. “what did he do?” 

“how do i know you’re not spying for them?” louis asked suddenly, as the thought dawned on him. he looked her over quickly in search of a mic, but came up empty—still, they wouldn’t have hid it somewhere he could see.

she narrowed her eyes impatiently. “anything you say affects tom. do you seriously believe i would put him in danger?” 

“he’s in the maze, isn’t he? who do you think put him there? last i checked it was your best friend, ava paige!”

“and i heard you had a hand in that!” she shot back hotly. they stared at each other, unrelenting, until she sighed defeatedly, collapsing down on to the nearest bed. “i care about him just as much as you do.”

“then help him.”

“how?” she asked, gesturing around wildly. “if you weren’t aware, he’s in the maze, and we’re out here."

louis stood and used his head to tilt to the side, exactly where the camera sat, red light above it flashing, signalling they weren’t the only two people listening to the conversation. he repeated the same words he told janson, eyes widening in an effort to get his real message across. “whatever thomas did, he did on his own.” with his hands held below his waist, effectively out of sight from the camera, louis held up two fingers. ‘second floor toilets,’ he mouthed. 

teresa nodded ever so slightly, standing up. “if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” she said, storming away in faux-anger. with one last knowing look back at him, she left. 

 

-

 

it was a surprise the guards didn’t enter the toilet with him. louis had no idea how teresa would find a way in, what with them positioned directly outside the door—as well as the fact that this was the male’s urinal. somehow, though, she was already there. 

just as he raised his hand to knock on the only closed stall, the door flew open, and there she stood, face scrunched in disgust. “how do you boys manage to make this much of a mess? and don’t even get me started on the smell.” louis shushed her, gesturing towards the guards waiting outside. she rolled her eyes, but lowered her voice. “okay, speak.”

“thomas didn’t just step out of line,” louis whispered, reaching in to his back pocket for the copy of the data they’d stolen. louis had managed to keep it hidden during all the times they’d searched his room. he was risking so much in order to show her. “he sent files and files of WICKED data to this group called the Right Arm—their main goal is to save people like us from being put under trials like the Maze."

teresa took the paper, and louis couldn’t read the emotions flitting over her face. “this is treason,” was all she said, eyes scanning the pages in understanding.

“WICKED is the furthest thing from good, teresa.” louis looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice even further. “they’re killing us—killing kids. and all in search of a cure that doesn’t exist.”

teresa was shaking her head, shoving the papers into louis’ hands. “no,” she said, stepping back. “no, you’re wrong. louis, they’re trying to save us, all of us!” louis shushed her, reaching out frantically, but she continued to raise her voice. “thomas wouldn’t do this. he believed in the cause. he would never do this!”

“teresa, shut up!” louis hissed angrily, but it was useless. the door to the toilet slammed open and louis had just enough time to push past teresa and enter the stall, shoving the pages into the toilet and flushing them down. he managed to watch as they disappeared before hands grabbed his arms and pulled him out, roughly shoving him against the wall. teresa was stood as far away from him as possible. “if you care about him, don’t say anything!” he yelled, groaning when the guard tightened his hold on him painfully. 

“miss agnes, are you okay?” one of the other guards asked gruffly. 

teresa was staring at the ground. she raised her head to look at louis—and he thought he saw her hesitate, saw her look apologetic—but she spun on her hell, shaking her head. “i’m fine. get janson,” she barked, walking out. “i know something he’s going to want to hear.”

“i knew it!” he yelled after her retreating form. “i told thomas not to trust you!”

 

-

 

his hands were cuffed to the table. it was no more than a show—louis knew he wouldn’t be able to escape the building, regardless of whether or not he could move his hands—and janson knew it too. what he didn’t know was how long he’d been in that room. the guards had dragged him there straight away, depositing him violently in the chair, yanking his arms on to the table and handcuffing his wrists, leaving without a word. louis was left to his own thoughts and memories, replaying teresa’s betrayal. he couldn’t even be angry, was the thing—louis had known who she was. it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she’d side with WICKED.

there was silence for a little while longer, and then the door creaked open, revealing janson and his ever-present smirk. 

“i knew i’d get you eventually, tomlinson,” he said cheerfully, walking up to the table and taking a dramatic seat opposite louis, who only grinned. 

“eat my shit,” he replied, just as merrily.  

“i’d watch your mouth.”

“oh, yeah?” louis huffed out a laugh. "what’s the worst you can do?”

his face took on a snarl as he spoke, lips twitching, “a lot worse than you can imagine.” with a sigh, he rose, looking down at his watch. “but nothing i can do right now. seems like we’re going to have to send them two newcomers this month."

“you’re sending me in to the maze?” louis asked with dawning horror. he hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. through all the months that had passed, WICKED had never sent more than one box up per month. he couldn’t have his memories taken away—their plan relied on louis being on the other side of the maze, not in it, remembrance vials ready to be injected into his friends. 

janson smiled, then, but there was no warmth behind it. “puts a little damper on your plans, doesn’t it? you kids really need to learn; you’ll never win, not against me.”

louis was all out of options. there was nothing he could do, nobody left on his side—at least, nobody who remembered. 

when louis remained quiet, janson let out a victorious chuckle. he made his way to the door but stopped with his palm on the handle as louis spoke up, “i’ll remember, you know. maybe not everything—but enough. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you don’t do this to save humanity—you do this to save yourself.”

 

-

 

louis didn’t bother resisting as the guards lifted him up and dragged him away. he didn’t move as they left him standing in one of the lab rooms, or when a nurse came in and stripped him down, hastily shoving on a medical gown. he laid still, pliant and docile, when they threw him on to the operating table and jabbed a needle into his neck. ava paige blurred into his vision, and louis could vaguely hear her calling out his name, but his eyes were drooping and his mind was hazy, the effects of the anaesthetic already working. 

ava was calling out his name, but as his brain shut off, he was calling out harry’s. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself i'd only update weekly, but i've never been one to follow orders. enjoy!

there were voices, that was the first thing louis could make out. there were voices above him, around him, and they were so goddamn loud. his neck hurt, his head was pulsing painfully, and he couldn’t remember a single thing 

“what’s in his hand?” a voice yelled over the others. louis couldn’t help but think it was familiar; a nagging sensation that told him he knew who was speaking—but he couldn’t _remember_ a goddamn thing.

his eyes startled open just in time for a head of blond hair to swim in to view. louis backed away immediately, groaning at the sharp tug of pain that erupted the second he did so. the voices had faces now, and they were all boys, looking down at him in confusion. louis didn’t know what was going on. 

he opened his mouth to speak but his vision blurred and suddenly he was toppling over again. a single word, one name, ripped out of him before he collapsed, his body stilling. “ _thomas_.”

 

-

there wasn’t so much noise the next time he woke up. louis didn’t know where he was or how he got there—in fact, he couldn’t recall a single moment before having woken up the first time around. 

he’d been moved, that much was obvious. instead of the open sky and peering heads, louis looked up to see a bamboo-covered roof. he was lying on something, tables scattered around him with random pieces of medical equipment covering them—a medical room of sorts, then, he guessed. 

just as louis moved to get up, the door opened. it was the same boy from before, the one with the blond hair, except this time he was accompanied by another—and the same nagging feeling, like there was something you needed to remember but couldn’t, sparked up in him. 

the blond smiled kindly. “i’m sure you have loads of questions,” he said, approaching the make-shift bed, and louis could see a slight limp as he walked. he sat up fully, then. the boy looked nice enough, but louis didn’t know him at all to assume he was safe around him. “it’s okay if you’re feeling confused,” he continued, gesturing to himself and his companion. “we were all confused once. i’m newt, by the way.”

louis stared—he stared, and didn’t say a word. 

the other boy spoke up, “i’m frypan,” he said, awkwardly waving his hand. “but everyone calls me fry. can you remember anything?” 

a single shake of his head. newt nodded encouragingly. “that’s all right—none of us can remember anything from before the box. your name’ll come to you eventually, though—it’s the only thing they let us keep.”

“my name,” louis mumbled, staring down at his hands. he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. “i remember my name.”

newt and fry shared a look. “okay, then. what is it?” newt asked, and louis knew he wanted to ask something else, probably why it was louis remembered so quickly—louis wanted to know that too.

“louis,” he said shakily, and then once again, with more confidence, “ _louis_.”

"louis,” newt repeated, and louis felt that same tugging, this time stronger. he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it meant—but he thought maybe newt felt it too, judging by the way his eyebrows knit confusedly and his head tilted ever so slowly. 

“do you remember what you said when you first woke up, louis?” fry asked. 

louis frowned, shaking his head slowly. “what did i say?”

“a name,” newt answered, anxiously rubbing at the skin around his neck. “you said a name; ‘thomas’—and you kept saying it while you were sleeping.”

“i did?” louis asked, stumped. he couldn’t think of any reason why—the name meant nothing to him. 

“yeah.” newt nodded, face equally perplexed. fry was glancing between the two of them seemingly engulfed in a staring match—but it was so infuriatingly consistent, was the thing; the nagging, that was. every word that newt spoke sparked a stronger flame within him and louis couldn’t help but feel like he had the same effect on newt too.  

fry pat the two of them on the shoulder then, shaking them both out of their stupor. “well, for whatever reason, you said the shank’s name. maybe that’ll come back to you. in the mean time, though, welcome to the glade, louis.”

“the _what_?”

“come on,” newt said, now recovered. he shook his head quickly and headed towards the door, pushing it open. “let’s show you around.”

 

-

 

_ **thomas** _

he’d said his name. the boy with the feathery hair and blue eyes had gasped himself awake and then fainted, but only after he’d said thomas’ _name_ —and thomas didn’t know what to make of that. it seemed the other gladers didn’t either, all heads turning on him with suspicion—but he had no answers, no idea why the boy would’ve called out for him. just like the rest of them, thomas couldn’t _remember_ —although that didn’t seem to mean much to gally and his followers, who only used the moment as a way to further their vendetta against him.

newt checked in frequently with the new boy. everyone was one edge—not once had more than one person been sent up in the box within a month—but that wasn’t what had everyone frightened, no. it was the paper. the lone, crumpled piece of paper they found clutched in the boy’s hand. ‘he’s the last one. ever.’ it had read, to the dawning horror of every glader. nobody was sure what to make of it. the last boy? or the idea no one wanted to voice, too scared for it to become reality; the last _box_. no more boxes meant no more supplies—and no more supplies, well. ‘bad news’ was an understatement. 

thomas knew it was vital now more than ever that they find a way out. he’d scope every inch of the maze himself if it came down to it—luckily, it didn’t. minho met him in the woods like they discussed; winston, fry and zeke in tow—and it was more than thomas could’ve asked for. they headed out into the maze in search of the griever. the numerous lefts and rights, each wall they turned into practically identical to the one before, made it seem like they were running around in circles—but thomas trusted minho knew where they were going and how to guide them safely, as did the other gladers, so they followed his lead without question.  

and then the dead griever came into view. thomas wasn’t the one to exclaim out loud how gruesome the creature looked trapped between the walls, but he certainly thought it. memories flashed back, of the previous night when it had been alive and trying to kill him. thomas had run for his life, then—and very nearly hadn’t succeeded. 

they tugged on its metallic leg, falling back when it dislodged itself from the rest of the body. thomas had never seen such an intricate design of flesh and metal, and he feared its creator more then he did the very thing itself. the noises that accompanied minho attempting to dig through a fractured part of the severed leg almost made him choke, the sight definitely sparking queasiness, but eventually minho managed to pull something out, something metallic and covered in the greiever’s slimy sludge. the four of them had no clue as to what it was or what it did, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

 

-

 

minho led him in to the room strictly reserved for runners. it wasn’t much—four bare, bamboo walls all stood up to hold the only thing occupying it—a table covered with a ragged cloth. thomas didn’t say a word as minho soundlessly lifted it, chucking it somewhere behind him as he stepped back and waited for thomas to take it all in. it was the maze, that much was clear. little wooden sticks had been glued together to mirror the walls in an articulate map of the maze, twisting and turning in the same confusing way thomas remembered. 

“it’s the maze,” minho said, staring down at the wooden structure, echoing what thomas already knew. he paused, then shifted to look thomas in the eye. “ _all of it_.”

thomas stilled. he furrowed his brows, gazing at minho in confusion. “what do you mean all of it? i thought you were still mapping it.”

minho shook his head slightly, exhaustion painted over his features. “there’s nothing left to map. i’ve run every inch of it myself; every cycle, every pattern—if there was a way out, we would’ve found it by now."

thomas couldn't believe it. “why haven’t you told anyone this?”

“it was alby’s call,” minho said, moving to come around to where thomas stood. “people needed to believe we had a chance at getting out. but maybe now—” he picked up the device they’d stolen from the griever, turning it over as he passed it to thomas. “—we have a real chance. take a look at this,” he said, leaning against the edge of the table, hand hovering over it. “about a year ago, we started exploring these outer sections. we found these numbers, printed on the walls—sections one through eight. see the way it works, is that every night, when the maze changes, it opens up a new section. so today, section six was open. tomorrow it’ll be four, then eight, then three—the pattern always stays the same.” 

thomas stared down at the piece of metal in his hands, rubbing at the screen where the number seven glared up at him in red. “what’s so special about seven?” he wondered.

“i don’t know,” minho replied, walking around him, towards the other side of the room. “last night when you killed that griever, section seven was open—think it must be where it comes from. tomorrow, you and i are going to take a closer look.” thomas nodded, but was quickly diverted when clint and harry came barreling to the door. “hey, what are you guys doing? you’re not allowed in here.”

clint nodded, panting, “sorry, it’s just the erm—“

“it’s the boy,” harry finished for him. 

thomas spurred in to action, stepping forward. “what, is he awake?"

the two medjacks nodded simultaneously, and thomas glanced over to meet minho’s eyes before rushing out the door, the three of them following suit.

 

-

 

“he’s up there,” newt informed them the second he saw them approaching him—he was pointing at the watch tower. thomas craned his head as far back as he could but he couldn’t see any hint of the boy. “he said he wanted to be alone.”

thomas nodded only to let newt know he heard, not to say he was going to comply with the request—but newt already knew that wasn’t the case. all he did was sigh defeatedly once he saw thomas advancing towards the ladder, leaving him be as he climbed quickly. thomas was up in no time, but he stopped short once the opening was in sight. “hey,” he called out softly. “it’s thomas, i’m coming up.” there was no reply. thomas took that as a good sign and peeked his head through tentatively, trying not to startle the boy—and really, he should’ve been the cautious one. “whoa, whoa,” he said, lifting the rest of his body up in order to hold his hands out in surrender. the boy was there, as far away from thomas as he could get, with a knife pointed directly at him. 

“what do you want?” he said quickly, voice shaking slightly, but thomas could see his hands were completely still—obviously not afraid, the knife gripped tightly in his grasp very capable of hurting him. 

“nothing,” thomas promised, edging closer now that he was fully onto the platform. "i just want to talk. my name’s thomas—but you kinda already knew that, huh?” 

the boy lowered the knife slightly. “they said i kept saying your name in my sleep,” he mumbled, confused, only to raise the knife higher. “who are you?” he demanded. 

thomas gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “i don’t know. i can’t remember anything, same as you.” 

“i remember,” he said defiantly, curling in to himself further. “i remember.” 

“you do?” thomas moved even closer. when the boy didn’t lift the knife up again, thomas reached out. he pried it from his grip and placed it deftly to the side, away from the both of them. “what do you remember?” 

“louis,” was all he said.

“louis?” thomas echoed, taking a seat opposite him. “is that your name?” he nodded. “okay, louis,” thomas said, watching him with careful eyes. “what else do you remember?” 

“a phrase,” louis said, moving his arms away from his body. he loosened up a bit and looked up, finally meeting thomas’ gaze head on. “WICKED is good,” they said in unison. louis’ eyes widened, as did thomas’. “how did you know?”

“i didn’t,” thomas mumbled, rubbing at his head. pain was starting to bloom at his temples. “it just came out.” 

“what does it mean?” he asked, sitting up a little taller now. 

“i don’t know.” it seemed like thomas had been saying that term too often. “WCKD. WICKED. i’ve seen the letters etched into places around here.” 

“but what does it _mean_?” louis asked again. the two of them stared at each other then, and thomas felt like he was missing something, something big. it was the same kind of feeling he got around newt and harry—never any other gladers, just those two—and now, with the addition of louis, those three.

thomas wished he had answers to give—anything better than what he actually said, “i don’t know.”

 

-

 

they’d moved to get some food.  louis had kept quiet the journey down the tower and to the food hut, remaining so even when thomas placed two plates full of food down in front of them. thomas hadn’t been big on eating since he’d arrived at the glade, and judging by louis’ untouched plate, he felt the same. for the sake of fry, though, thomas managed to swallow down a couple of bites. 

it was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so the two of them had the room entirely to themselves. thomas was thankful for that as he asked, “are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” 

louis looked up. he stared for a moment and then nodded, once. “i remember water—feeling like i was drowning. these faces staring at me. and this voice—this woman’s voice saying the same thing over and over."

“WICKED is good,” thomas finished for him. louis nodded again. "ever since i’ve been here,” thomas continued, "i’ve had these dreams—well, what i thought were dreams. a girl was there—she told me everything was going to change. and you,” thomas said softly. “you were there too.” 

louis blinked, shook his head. "what does it all mean?"

"i dont know. i-i just always get pieces."

"and the others don’t remember anything?"

“no.” thomas shook his head frustratedly. the more he knew the less he understood. "why are we different?"

louis was quiet for a while as thomas pondered over the question. nothing made sense. there were faces in his mind he had no memory of meeting—the girl, the one who spoke to him, who smiled at him like they were familiar—thomas _knew_  her, yet he couldn’t _remember_. the not knowing was driving him mad. 

louis broke the silence. he reached into his pocket and retracted two, small vials, handing them over to thomas. “these were in my pocket when i came up."

thomas took them. they were tiny metal containers with vivid blue liquid inside—and the letters, the same letters thomas had seen on the beetle bugs, the maze walls; all over the glade. “WCKD—wicked. WICKED is good."

louis stared at him, an intensity in his eyes thomas hadn’t seen before. "what if we were sent here for a reason?” he wondered tentatively.

thomas knew then what they had to do. “ _alby_.”

 

-

 

_ **newt** _

“no.”

“newt!”

“no, tommy!"

“ _newt_!”

“look—“ louis started, but newt didn’t give him a chance to finish. 

“ _no_ ,” he said again, shaking his head adamantly. “we don’t even know what this stuff is. we don’t know who sent it—or why it came up here with you. i mean for all we know, this thing could kill him!” 

“he’s already dying—look at him!” thomas argued, pointing at alby’s shivering, groaning body. “how could this possibly make it any worse? come on," he pleaded. "it’s worth a try.”

newt stared down at his friend. losing alby would cause him more pain than he could imagine. alby had been the one by his side all those months newt had spent confused and alone, the two of them forging the glade into the very thing it was now. they’d welcomed new greenie after new greenie, always giving the same talk, always answering the same questions. it had become a routine that newt found comfort in, however boring. alby had been the one to lead the gladers since the very start. he’d been the one to arrive first, completely alone. he’d done so much for everyone, and newt couldn’t let him die. there was no other way—thomas was right, of course, as newt was used to him being. so he nodded softly. “alright,” he said, handing thomas the vial. “do it.”

thomas took it instantly. he moved around until he was beside the bed, hovering over alby’s chest. his hand shifted as he began to lower it down, just as alby’s eyes shot open. a scream ripped out of the glader, nothing like newt had ever heard from him before. he grabbed thomas, shaking him violently. newt spurred into action, taking a hold of thomas in an attempt pull him back.

“you shouldn’t be here!” the crazed boy was yelling, thrashing wildly. “you shouldn’t be here!” he was talking to thomas. just as newt went to ask him what he meant, louis stabbed the vial into his chest. a low hissing sound rang out, alby’s body collapsing down at once. 

the room was silent. jeff spoke up from the corner, “well that certainly worked.”

newt still had his hands wrapped around thomas. he stepped away quickly, watching as thomas’ chest rose and fell rapidly. “okay, from now on, someone stays here and watches him around the clock,” he instructed, to the nodding heads of clint and jeff. newt looked around. "where’s harry?” 

“said he needed some air,” clint answered, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to fiddle with bits of equipment. 

newt let out a tired exhale. he was starting to develop a headache. “we’re surrounded by air."

“tell _him_ that.”

the door opened and all heads turned to face gally. “hey,” he said, glancing around once before focusing on thomas. it looked like he was frowning but newt figured that was just the face he made when thomas was involved. “sundown, greenie. time to go.” 

thomas turned to look at him, then, almost like he was expecting newt to interfere. newt raised one eyebrow in reply and watched him walk out dejectedly, gally in tow. _yeah_ , he thought, rubbing at his temples— _definitely had a headache_. 

 

-

 

“where did he go?” louis asked some time later, when they were all seated around the tables in the food hut. 

“hm?” newt looked up from his half-finished plate of potatoes, carrots and a small serving of beef. louis was looking at him expectantly. “sorry, what?” 

“thomas,” he repeated quietly, placing his fork down. he’d only taken two bites of his food. “where did he go?”

“oh,” newt said, sighing. he gestured around vaguely with his own fork. “a right menace, he is. got himself in trouble—of course he did. has to spend a night in solitude.”  

“but what did he do?” 

“he ran out in to the maze. saved alby and minho’s life in the process, the crazy shank—but broke one of the only rules we have here to do it.”

louis looked confused. “surely there should be some lenience?"

newt snorted. “there was,” he said, nodding towards the door. “a night in solitude is nothing compared to being banished.”

“banished?”

“let’s hope you never need to know what it means,” newt said, patting him on the shoulder and rising to stand. he grabbed his plate and stared down at louis’ unfinished one. “now eat up, will you? you’re as skinny as simon here." simon, sat at the table directly behind them, glared halfheartedly at newt’s grinning self. “y’know i just kid, si, don’t worry about it."

louis gave a half smile. his plate remained untouched. “i actually think i want to get some rest now,” he said, backing out of his own chair. 

newt nodded along in understanding. “'course you do. come along, then, i’ll show you where you’re camped.” 

 

-

 

it was one of those quiet nights. newt still hadn’t decided if he liked them or not. it gave him time to get lost in his thoughts, but it also meant the screeching of the maze walls changing was louder than ever—and harder to ignore. it was a reminder of how trapped they all were—of how trapped newt _felt_.

he was glad when louis broke the silence. “how long have you been in here?” the greenie asked, subtly glancing down at newt’s bad leg. newt was used to the staring. it had been especially hard to deal with in the weeks after his fall, but now his limp reminded him of a time that he’d survived, and he wasn’t ashamed—not anymore.

“almost two years,” he answered, shooting the other boy a crooked smile when his eyes widened. “i was the second one up here.”

they had almost reached the bedrooms—and newt certainly used that term lightly. for starters, the were no actual rooms—just a stack of bamboo sticks held together by rope and planks of wood acting as a makeshift roof. however defective, though, all the gladers were grateful for it on rainy days or times when the sun shone particularly bright. there weren’t any beds, either, besides newt’s ragged mattress of sorts. it had been hard for him to sleep comfortably in his hammock after the fall, his leg cramping up painfully at the flimsy support. gally had been the one to walk up to newt one night, the soft material bunched in his hands. he’d silenced newt’s protests with one sharp look, and went about collecting every cushiony, thick object he could get his hands on, placing them all together without so much as a word. newt had looked at him gratefully, then, and gally had simply nodded, face smoothed out in what newt could only have called a smile. 

newt looked around for any spare hammocks. the box usually supplied them along with the boys they brought up. thomas had arrived with his, but louis had only arrived with a daunting note. there was one, newt could see, all the way off to the left, hidden behind a particularly large tree—two, actually, now that newt had squinted slightly. and when a familiar head of silky brown hair peeked out, newt knew exactly who they belonged to. 

“this way, then,” he said joyfully, heading off in the direction of the separated hammocks. louis followed along obediently, glancing ahead with unease. “harry!” he’d called out once he’d neared. 

the medjack looked over his shoulder at his name, frowning as his eyes landed on newt, and then on louis trailing behind. “newt?” he replied carefully. “what is it?”

newt grinned. he slapped a playful hand on louis’ shoulder beside him, gesturing to the unoccupied bed next to the one harry was in. “new greenie needs a place to sleep.” harry stared blankly. newt sighed. “there aren’t any other places available, haz.”

harry was looking at louis. louis was looking at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. “chuck’s in charge of the sleeping arrangements now,” he said stubbornly. "maybe he’s got a spare one."

“look, haz—i know you love having your own space, but we can’t very well leave louis here to sleep on the floor just ‘cause you’re an uptight shank—“

harry stilled. his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he nodded towards the silent greenie. “your name’s louis?” louis raised his head at that. he stared at harry, momentarily dazed, before nodding ever so slightly. harry’s eyes were wide and thoughtful. newt didn’t know what was happening. harry nodded. “okay, fine,” he said, glancing at newt momentarily, before quickly averting his eyes back to louis. "he can sleep here.” 

and newt wasn’t going to argue with that. he shot the two of them a thumbs up, albeit slightly confused, and turned on his heel. “make sure the greenie eats something tomorrow!” he yelled out, not waiting for a reply as he jogged back to the medical room, leaving them to it.

 

-

 

 _** harry ** _   


_ louis _ —it was the same name he’d found etched into his skin, along with  _ thomas _  and  _ newt _ . harry didn’t know who put it there, but he could guess it wasn’t the people who sent him in to the glade. they went to excruciating lengths to make sure nobody remembered a thing—so why would they leave names of his past on his body? more specifically, why would they leave it hidden behind his calf, where his hair was most thickest—and most likely to cover it up. harry had been aware of a stinging sensation at the back of his leg when he first woke up, but had put it down to a bad scrape he’d gotten some time he couldn’t remember because, well, he couldn’t _remember_   anything . but then he’d been in the shower, and the water sliding down his body had caused the wounded area to itch horribly, forcing him to take a look—and there, in swollen, red flesh, were the names—and directly underneath it, the words, ‘ say nothing’ . harry never mentioned his findings.  


when he was later introduced to newt, his heart skipped a beat. the rational part of his mind reminded him that more than one person could share the same name, but harry didn’t think  _ newt _  was very common. he expected some grand revelation as he stared at the blond boy, but he received nothing besides a tugging in his mind and confused brown eyes peering at him. it had taken weeks, but eventually, in one of his dreams—well, a memory, he figured—he’d seen him. newt, that was. they were in a lab of sorts, accompanied by two other boys whose faces were never clear. harry couldn’t ever make out what was being said—or rather, he couldn’t  remember —but the four of them resurfaced shakily in other memories. 

it was months of confusion and suspicion. harry noticed the strange carvings of the letters ‘WCKD’ dotted all over the glade, the exact same ones he saw in his sleep. he noticed the little bugs scampering around and got close to them enough times to make out the tiny cameras imbedded into their eyes. he spoke up, asked questions, growing more curious by the day. he must have known the people who put him there—that had to be the only explanation. he knew them, and he knew something else; something someone wanted him to remember. but he couldn’t voice his thoughts aloud. he couldn’t make it obvious he was remembering. he had to investigate on his own. 

when thomas arrived up in the box, harry knew it wasn’t a coincidence. he couldn’t explain it, but he was drawn to him in the same way he was with newt—and that definitely had something to do with what he was supposed to remember. the three of them, as well as whoever louis was, must have known each other in the time before the glade. and when a new greenie arrived the next day, harry knew he was running out of time to figure out the truth—and when the new greenie turned out to be what was undoubtably  _ the louis _ , his mind had gone into overdrive.   


harry was staring. it was making louis uncomfortable, he was sure, but he couldn’t help it.   


louis cleared his throat. he was looking down, away—anywhere but at harry. “why’d you change your mind?” he asked eventually, fiddling awkwardly with his wrists as he concentrated on the ground. 

a question. harry had to shake his head to clear it. louis had just asked him a question. “uh,” he blanched, grimacing at how choked it came out. he cleared his throat. “sorry—change my mind about what?”  


“me,” louis replied, gesturing to the hammock he was perched on. “this. sleeping here.” 

“oh.” harry rubbed at the back of his neck, shrugging feebly. there was so much he wanted to ask him, so much he wished louis had the answers to—but the boy had just come up in the box after having his memories wiped. every other glader, along with harry himself, had needed time to settle, and he was sure bombarding him with questions was exactly what he didn’t want right now. eventually harry decided on, “couldn’t have you sleeping on the floor.” 

louis gave a small, empty smile and shook his head. “no, that’s not it. you knew me—or at least you recognised my name."  


so he was more perceptive than harry would’ve liked him to be. still, he shook his head, glancing away. “uh, no, i—um. just sounded familiar ’s all.”

“familiar how?” the brunet prodded, and harry could see he wasn’t going to give up any time soon.   


“i didn’t want to freak you out; i just kind of get the feeling that we knew each other. like,  _ really _  knew each other.”   


louis finally met his eyes. he nodded slowly. “so do i.”   


harry's own eyes widened. “you do?” the other boy nodded again, this time faster, more confident. he went to speak up just as harry heard the tell-tale scampering noise of the beetle bugs. he held out a hand to silence him, and the greenie furrowed his brows but complied, until the tiny metal creature whizzed down the tree and out of sight. “bugs with cameras in them,” he explained, signalling for louis to go on. “i don’t know whether or not they can hear, but they certainly can watch.” 

“they?” louis repeated. "watch what?”  


harry sighed forlornly. “i’ve been asking myself those very same questions for some time now."  


“WICKED,” louis muttered under his breath. harry called out a, “pardon?” and louis repeated himself, louder. “WICKED. WCKD. i don’t know what it means but it’s the same letters that thomas and i have been seeing.” 

“seeing?” harry leaned forward much too quickly and almost fell out of his hammock. once he righted himself, he continued, “like in dreams?”  


“yeah.” louis nodded. “exactly like that.”

“did you ever see anything else?” 

“thomas saw me. i have no recollection of seeing him, but i don’t doubt that i have—there’s a woman i do see, though, and her voice, always repeating the same thing; ‘WICKED is good’. i think they’re the people who put us in here. but there’s something wrong, i can feel it. something wrong with her words—something that i must’ve known before my mind was wiped.”   


the more he learnt, the more questions emerged. “i get the same feeling,” harry said, looking around. some of the gladers had wondered over to the beds and were preparing to sleep, others scattered around making friendly conversation. no one was paying them any attention. harry figured now was as good a time as any to reveal what he knew. “someone wanted me to remember something. when i came up, three names were carved into my leg.”   


“ _ carved _ ?” 

“with a razor of sorts. to an outsider it looked like nothing more than a bruised area."  


“a  razor ?” louis repeated, horrified. “someone  really  wanted you to remember. what were the names?” 

“newt, thomas,” harry listed off, taking a small pause. from the look of understanding on louis’ face, he knew the other boy had figured out the third.   


“and mine,” he finished for him. 

harry nodded. “whoever it was, they knew i would check it in the showers. there aren’t any beetle bugs in the there—the single shred of privacy we’re allowed—so the people who sent us in here never knew it was there. the words ‘say nothing’ were etched directly under.”

“and so you said nothing.”  


another nod. “for months.” 

“why say anything now?”   


“it’s different now,” harry explained. “and not just because of your presence. i’d felt the change ever since thomas arrived."

“why didn’t you say anything to newt?” 

“newt can’t remember anything—at all. i tried. i did everything i could to trigger any sign of recognition; but either he was affected in a different way, or he’s suppressing any memories trying to surface.”

“he was the second one up here,” louis said, looking thoughtful. “two years is a long time. maybe he’s lost connection with the part of him that’s tethered to who he used to be.”   


“maybe.” 

it was quiet. the distant sounds of the gladers drifted over them until louis sighed and spoke up, “so what now?”

harry looked dejected. he shrugged and pushed back, laying down in his hammock. “all we _can_ do is wait.” 


	3. Chapter 3

he’d been sitting by alby’s side all day. thomas and minho had left as soon as thomas’ punishment had ended, heading in to the maze without so much as a glance back. harry had been fiddling around with pieces of medical equipment the whole time, turning around every so often to check on alby’s state. he wouldn’t meet louis’ eyes, and he wouldn’t say more than a couple of words. he’d just switched shifts with jeff, giving louis a small smile as he headed off to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t in the medhut, when alby’s eyes shot open—this time they were clear and lucid. 

jeff immediately moved to his side, placing tentative hands on alby’s arms to steady him as he slowly sat up. “hey, man,” he said softly, stepping back once alby was seated upright. “gave us all quite a scare.” he waited for a reply, any hint that alby had heard him, but the dark-skinned boy didn’t say a word. jeff turned to look at louis. “could you call newt? he’s going to want to know he’s awake.” 

louis nodded and left without a word. newt wasn’t hard to find. louis spotted his lean frame and unmistakable head of blond hair amongst the crowd of boys gathered around an arguing thomas and gally—and, really. louis hadn’t been there all that long, but it seemed like that was a frequent occurrence. 

he hadn’t even known that thomas and minho had returned. he walked up to the group of boys just in time to see gally shove an accusing finger at thomas’ chest. “let me tell you something, greenie,” he spat, venom dripping off of every word. “you’ve been here three days, alright—i’ve been here _two years_!"

thomas shoved himself further into gally’s face. “yeah, you’ve been here two years—and you’re _still here_ , alright, so what does that tell you? maybe you should start doing things a little differently!”

louis almost forgot why he was there. “guys—“ he tried to cut in, but his voice was instantly swallowed up by gally’s. 

“maybe you should be in charge—“

“ _hey_ —“

“what about that, huh? maybe you should be in charge—“

“hey!” louis yelled, this time successfully. both the hot-headed boys turned to stare at him, along with the other gladers surrounding them. “it’s alby,” he said, by way of answer to the curious looks being thrown his way. “he’s awake."

 

-

 

“has he said anything?” thomas asked as he all but ran to the medhut, louis jogging to keep up with him. 

“no,” he replied, pushing forward to enter first. minho, newt, gally, fry and thomas all followed him in to the little shack. jeff was nowhere to be seen—probably off to get alby some food, louis assumed. and  alby, sitting up and facing the wall, was just as louis had left him. his eyes weren’t bloodshot like they were the last time louis had seen him, but they held a lifelessness that louis deemed much scarier. 

newt was the fist one to approach him. “alby,” he said cautiously, moving around louis to stand in front of his friend. “alby, are you all right?” 

and just like when jeff spoke, alby didn’t say a word. he remained passive, not a single muscle moving—if it wasn’t for the rising and falling of his chest as well as his continuous, languid blinks, louis would’ve take him to be a statue. “hey, alby,” thomas tried next, shifting to kneel in front of the unresponsive glader. “alby, we might have just found a way out of the maze. do you hear me? we could be getting out of here.” 

that seemed to awaken something in him. alby's face took on a painful sadness, and he shook his head ever so slightly. “we can’t,” he whispered faintly. “we _can’t_ ,” he echoed again, this time more forcefully. “they won’t let us.” 

thomas looked up in confusion. he glanced at newt, and then louis, before returning his attention back on the now trembling boy. “what are you talking about?”

“i remember,” he said, eyes scrunched up. 

“what do you remember?” 

“you.” alby was staring at thomas now, and he looked scared, defeated. “you were always their favourite. always.” suddenly, there were noises outisde. all heads turned to the door, but alby was still speaking, “why did you do this? why did you come here?” 

thomas recoiled when tears started streaming down alby’s face. the commotion outside was growing louder. he backed away as if he’d been slapped, and spared alby, whose head was in his hands, one last glance before he stumbled out of the door, louis and the other gladers accompanying him. 

it was havoc. boys were running around wildly, voices yelling out uneasily. a glader louis hadn’t learnt the name of was jogging past them with a torch in hand when thomas stopped him. “hey, winston, what’s going on?” 

winston looked fearful. “it’s the doors,” he said, pointing at the large, stone doors that guarded the entrance to the maze. “they aren’t closing.” 

 

-

 

there were gladers everywhere. most of them were stood where thomas lead louis, in front of the doors the runners usually used to exit into the maze. just like winston had said, they were left open. the same noises louis had heard last night sounded out, the horrifying screech of metal dragging against stone—grievers, they were called. harry had explained them to him tiredly before he’d dozed off. the gladers all stood, torches lit, waiting in quiet panic. it was then that a loud groan echoed out. everyone erupted in shouts as they turned around—the wall opposite them had begun to open. louis hadn't been there long, but he was sure that wasn’t a good sign. 

another groan, more shouts, and the doors to their right began to open. and _again_ , the doors to their left—this time, the gladers that had been over on that side were running away, yelling. the same metallic screeching was being emitted—and it was getting closer. 

“chuck.” thomas said quickly, assertively, grabbing on to the little curly-haired boy who’d gone pale with fright. “i want you to go to the council hall, okay? start barricading the door.” 

chuck nodded and set off immediately. newt grabbed winston’s shoulder and motioned after him. “winston, you go with him.”

“got it,” he said, jogging off to catch up with him. 

gally spoke up next. he was talking to the boys who’d usually follow him everywhere. “get the others,” he ordered. “tell them to go to the forest. go hide, _now_!"

“minho.” thomas turned to face the runner. “i want you to grab every weapon you can find. i’ll meet you at the council hall.”

he nodded. “let’s go,” he said, and fry, newt and simon went off after him. 

“louis.” thomas finally turned to look at him—and louis was shocked to find no fear in his eyes, only determination. thomas hadn’t been there much longer than he had, and yet he’d already seen so much worse. louis couldn’t remember all that much, but somehow he knew that thomas being in charge was right; that it felt _normal_. he didn’t hesitate to follow his orders. “you and i are gonna go get alby, all right? come on."

just as thomas placed a distressed hand on his arm to lead them away, a screech sounded out behind them—and this time closer then ever. the remaining gladers all turned to the noise, and louis’ eyes widened in horror when he saw what could only have been a griever. long, spindly metallic arms shot out of a jagged body, hitting against the floor deafeningly as it barrelled towards where he and thomas stood. 

“run!” thomas yelled, to the screams of the rest of the boys. “you need to run! everybody hide!” louis was frozen in fear. “ _louis_!” thomas called out, grabbing his arm roughly. his movements spurred louis in to action, and he followed thomas’ lead as they headed into the corn fields, the griever dead on their trail. his heart was pounding painfully, and it was then that louis remembered harry. he hadn’t seen him since he’d left the medhut. the screams of the gladers were drowned out by the inhuman screech of the grievers, and louis had to ignore the incessant thought of harry being the voice of one of them. 

they’d stopped. thomas had put a single finger against his lips to silence them, and louis had to shove a hand over his mouth to quiet his heaving. the griever was in the field with them, they could all hear it. it stopped, made a gruesome clicking noise, then jumped out, directly in front of a ginger-haired glader. louis didn’t know his name—he hardly knew anyone’s name, but their screams would haunt him. “thomas!” the boy had yelled out, and thomas reached out to grab his hand, screaming, “zart!" but all too suddenly, a giant, metal tail erupted out of the ginger's chest, and his pleas fell short. 

louis had to swallow down bile. the sight was macabre, and louis stood, transfixed in horror, until thomas pulled him along again, out of the field and towards the council hall. everywhere louis turned there was disaster. bodies were scattered all over the ground, buildings lit up in flames. the screaming hadn’t stopped, the screeching hadn’t stopped, and there were now two grievers on their trail. 

thomas came to an abrupt halt, alby before him, standing up with the help of clint and jeff. again, louis found himself wondering where harry was. “alby!” he said thankfully. 

“are you okay?” louis asked, but the dark-skinned boy only shook his head. 

“what’s going on?” he asked instead. 

“they’re here,” thomas said, looking over his shoulder. the two grievers' attention had been diverted.

jeff looked scared. “grievers?” a piercing scream ripped through the air. all five heads turned to the sound. it was a griever, it’s body hunched over a lifeless glader. thomas grabbed a knife from out of the tree beside him. “thomas, what do we do?” 

“it’s got me!” another boy yelled, falling flat on to his face as he was dragged back by his leg. the group backed away. 

thomas had picked up a torch. they were everywhere. “everybody, run, run, run!” he screamed. “jeff, come on! go, go, go.” 

a griever came flying through the medhut. the group of gladers around louis halted to a stop and louis had to hold on to thomas to stop from toppling over. it screeched horrendously, metal clinking as it upreared its tail. louis didn’t think. he dashed to the side and picked up an abandoned jar full of fire, yanking his arm bank and throwing with all his strength. it smashed onto the griever and set it alight, metal and flesh wailing out in pain. 

“everyone, go, go, go!” thomas yelled, waving them past him as the griever danced in circles. louis could see the council hall in the distance. it was too far away. the squelching and screaming as gladers were impaled and flung reverberated through the air, and louis willed his body to go faster, ignored the ache in his legs as he pumped them harder. “keep moving! oh shit!” 

alby fell down then, tripping over his own legs. “ah!” he cried, pushing himself on to his back. thomas rushed to him, pulling him up with all the strength he had, louis assisting.  

“get behind me!” the brunet ordered, stepping toward the approaching griever. he held out his knife, urging it closer. “come on!” 

the griever was advancing. thomas wouldn’t be able to defeat it. just as louis was going to pull him back, spears went flying into it. “over here, let’s go!” it was minho. louis didn’t have the time to catch his breath—they were running again. “let’s go, come on!”

“over here! come on!” it was chuck this time. he held a lantern up as he waved his hand frantically. 

“winston!” thomas passed alby off to the awaiting glader. “get him inside.” he moved quickly, slamming the door shut. “lock down the doors!” louis spurred forward, reaching out to slam the wooden bar down. 

the griever didn’t smash through it this time. it clicked and circled, screeched and waited. the gladers backed into the room as far as they could. louis looked to his left—and there harry was, hidden in the back, torch in hand. it was lighting his features so much that louis could see the fear painted across them clearly, but he was alive and unharmed, and louis couldn’t explain how grateful he felt just then—that was, until the griever climbed onto the flimsy roof. 

“stay back, guys,” thomas whispered, cautiously tracking the griever’s movements. newt was there, too, louis saw, somehow at thomas’ side like he’d been there all along. wherever the griever moved, the gladers moved in the opposite direction. the wooden structure was creaking dangerously, dust puffing out in warning. and then, a leg shot through and grabbed onto one of the supporting bamboo sticks, yanking it off. the roof came caving in, and the griever fell in along with it. 

“is everyone all right?” newt called out. nobody replied. louis couldn’t see much, but he thought there were some gladers trapped beneath the wreckage. “help!” came a voice from beneath—definitely trapped. 

“help him! get him up!” it was too late. the griever had dragged him out. 

another leg shot through the other side of the room. “watch out! chuck!” louis turned to see the little boy just inches away from the metallic claw. chuck yelled out in fear as it grabbed hold of him. thomas ran forward, louis, minho, harry and newt in tow. “chuck, no! grab him!” 

“pull him back!” louis was shouting, holding on to the youngest glader with all his might. 

“help!” 

“chuck, don’t let go!”

“ _no shit_!” 

the griever was gaining ground. “pull!”

“don’t let him go!”

more hands reached out to help. the griever ejected a needle. 

alby yelled out savagely, running forward with a broken bamboo stick in hand. he pounded at the metallic leg mercilessly, the needle falling off and on to the floor. the distraction allowed louis and thomas to tug chuck forward one last time, and then they had the little boy safely on the ground. alby continued to hit it, stopping only once the griever had retracted itself, yelling after it wildly. 

thomas’ attention was on chuck. “chuck, are you okay?” 

“yeah, i’m fine.” he picked up the needle from the ground, turning to a panting alby. “thanks, alby.” 

louis looked up. thomas followed his gaze, and called out a warning, but he wasn’t quick enough. “alby, watch out!” the claw had reached back in and taken hold of the dark-skinned boy. 

“grab him!” newt was yelling, and thomas ran forward, lifted himself up. his fingers just about hooked on to the bottom of alby’s shirt—he couldn’t reach him. 

alby wasn’t struggling. “thomas,” he said through clenched teeth, face calm in what looked to be acceptance. “get them out,” was the last thing he said, and then he was pulled away, and out of thomas’ grasp. 

“alby!” thomas cried after him. “ _no_!” 

“thomas,” louis said warningly. the brunet was advancing towards the door. “thomas, don’t go out there!” 

minho was calling after him too, “no, thomas, wait!”

“thomas, wait!” newt shouted along, following him out. louis did too. he didn’t know where harry was—he assumed he was somewhere behind him.

there was fire everywhere. the grievers had all retreated, but not a single glader could be seen. “where is everybody?” someone asked shakily. 

“what’s that over there?” all heads turned to the right. through the smoke emerged gally, along with two other boys—and he was heading straight for thomas, murder in his eyes. 

“gally—" thomas didn’t get a chance to finish. gally’s fist went flying towards his face, knocking him down. 

“woah, woah, woah!” the remaining gladers rushed in to action, holding him back—harry at the forefront—but gally struggled against them. 

“this is all you, thomas!” he said hotly, pointing maniacally at the ruined glade. “look around!” 

minho shoved him back. “back off, gally! it’s not thomas’ fault.” 

“you heard what alby said! he’s one of them!” 

“one of who?"

“he’s one of _them_ , and they sent him here to destroy everything—and now he has! look around, thomas! look around! this is your fault!”

louis was at thomas’ side. he had no doubt gally liked him no more than he did thomas, and the urgency in his eyes scared louis just as much as any griever had. 

“this is not thomas’ fault!” newt was saying then, as gally continued to fight against the arms holding him back. 

louis watched as thomas’ gaze trailed to the needle in chuck’s hand. he took it, staring down at the tip hopelessly. “maybe he’s right,” he muttered, turning to louis. 

louis shook his head cautiously. “thomas—” 

“i need to remember, louis.” 

“thomas—“ louis tried again, but it was too late. thomas’ hand had already lifted up and he'd stabbed the needle into his skin harshly. “ _thomas_!”

the commotion caused the other gladers to turn their heads. newt ran forward, yelling out, “no!” just as thomas’ body hit the ground. 

louis was on his knees. “chuck, get the other syringe!” he ordered, calling out thomas’ name. the boy was unresponsive. 

 

-

 

“gally, please,” louis was pleading, fighting against the grip he was held in. “just calm down." the boy remained passive, stalking forward without a word. louis had no choice but to follow along. they had thomas, too, and they were dragging the both of them to the cells. 

the gladers holding thomas dropped him on to the floor carelessly, reaching forward to open the door. “get in,” gally said, toneless and flat. louis didn’t attempt to argue. he knew it’d be a lost cause—and judging by the unsettling look of calm gally was wearing, he was barely restraining himself. he entered the cell wordlessly, biting his lip to refrain from cursing them out as the accompanying gladers roughly shoved thomas in beside him. 

not another word was spoken. the door slammed shut, and gally and his followers went striding off. 

thomas was twitching. his eyebrows were furrowed in discomfort and louis couldn’t help but wonder what it was he was seeing. it had taken alby hours to wake up after they’d injected him with the serum, and louis assumed this time would be no different. he manoeuvred thomas so his head was resting against his lap instead of the harsh stones, and shifted around to find some sense of cosiness—it was a useless feat, anyways, louis knew. he couldn’t sleep no matter what he tried. 

there was rustling outside. from what he gathered, nobody was meant to approach them. “who’s there?” he called out warily. 

more rustling. the torch pinned to the outside wall meant louis could see no further than the end of the cell. a sigh, then—a face popped in to view. it was harry. 

“’s just me,” he said, taking a seat as far away from the torch as he could, whilst still being able to look at louis. 

“oh.” louis found himself relaxing slightly. “hey.” 

harry gave a small, lopsided grin. “hey, yourself. only your second night here and you’ve already found yourself locked up.” 

louis snorted. “nothing to do with me—gally’s the one with the overactive imagination.” 

the other boy was quiet for a minute. “is he, though?” he whispered softly. louis knew he wasn’t accusing him unkindly. he himself had had the very same thoughts ever since he’d spoken to thomas. it was clear harry, thomas and him were aware of things the other gladers weren’t—and however else newt was involved, so was he. 

“maybe not,” louis said eventually. 

“i can’t get rid of this feeling, louis—this feeling that yours and thomas’ arrival is the final piece to the puzzle. but i don’t know what the picture is supposed to look like, so i don’t know where the pieces are meant to go.” 

and louis thought he understood that perfectly. he looked down at thomas’ unconscious form. “he’s going to remember. and then we’ll get some answers.” 

harry looked down at his lap, afraid. “what if the answers aren’t what we want to hear?” 

“they’ll still be what we need to hear.” 

 

-

 

thomas blinked his eyes open. louis had been awake for ages, his back cramping horribly, yet he hadn’t moved a muscle. he stared down at the boy in his lap with a small smile. “hey,” he said softly. thomas looked taken aback. “are you okay?” 

“what the hell were you thinking?” chuck blurted out, glaring down at him. 

thomas sat up. minho, harry, newt and chuck were gathered around outside the gate, all looking equally unimpressed and relieved—newt, the most so. thomas turned to louis. “what happened?” 

it was newt who answered him, “gally’s taken control. he said we had a choice—either join him, or get banished at sundown with you.“

newt had barely finished before thomas was rolling his eyes. he stretched off to the side and rose sluggishly, groaning. “and the others agreed to that?” 

“gally has everyone convinced that you’re the reason all of this is happening.” 

thomas nodded slowly. “well,” he said, laughing humourlessly. “he’s been right so far."

minho’s faced scrunched up in confusion. “what are you talking about?” 

“this place—“ thomas shook his head, looking down in shame. “it’s not what we thought it was.” he took a moment to look the group in the eyes before continuing, "it’s not a prison—it’s a test. it all started when we were kids. they’d give us these challenges—they were experimenting on us. and then people started disappearing every month, one after the other, like clockwork.”

newt nodded along in understanding. “sending them up in to the maze.”

thomas glanced at louis uneasily. “yeah—but not all of us.” 

“what do you mean?”

his voice shook when he spoke next, “guys, i’m one of them—the people who put you here, i _worked_ with them. i-i watched you guys for _years_. the entire time you’ve been here, i was on the other side of it.” he was staring at louis now, a sadness in his eyes. “and so were you.” 

louis blinked, startled. “what?”

“louis, we did this to them.”

“no.” louis was shaking his head. it didn’t make any sense. it didn’t fit in with the pieces of the puzzle he’d accumulated. “that can’t be true.” 

harry cut in, the voice of reason, “why would they send you guys up if you were with them?” 

thomas ignored the question, shaking his head hotly. “it doesn’t matter—"

"he’s right,” newt cut him off, staring them both down intensely. “it _doesn’t_ matter. any of it—‘cause the people we were before the maze, they don’t even exist anymore—these creators took care of that—“

again, harry interrupted, looking thoughtful, “what if they didn’t?” 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean,” he explained, glancing down at the back of his ankle. “we all knew each other before the maze—that much we know already. i’m betting that thomas and louis being sent down here wasn’t meant to happen. think about it—they know more than any of us ever did. that must mean they did something, something big, in order for them to have had their minds wiped—but it didn’t go according to plan.”

“harry—“

harry didn’t give thomas a chance to intervene. “just listen to me.” he was staring at the group with wild eyes. “someone on the outside wanted me to remember something. i had thomas’, louis’ and newt’s names carved in to my leg when i first arrived. it must’ve triggered something, because i’ve been recalling small parts of who we used to be. there’s something wrong with the picture you’re painting, thomas. i can’t remember knowing you guys, but i _know_ i do—and i also know there’s no way you would’ve just sat back and watched your friends die.” 

“but i _saw_ —“ 

louis was catching on to what harry was saying. “you stung yourself, thomas, because you wanted to find out the truth. they left pieces in your head—probably knowing it would drive you to do something exactly like that. and the vial that we used to cure you? sent up by them. how do we know what you’re seeing is the truth, tom? they can wipe our minds—it’s only safe to assume that they can plant false memories in there as well.” 

thomas was quiet as he pondered over their words. louis didn’t blame him for being doubtful. he knew what he saw in his own head; he knew the woman’s voice repeated the words, “WICKED is good,” but he didn’t know anything else. there was no context, no reason to trust his memory when they’d stolen it from him. it was hard to ignore your mind when it was the one thing you relied on, but louis felt strongly about his instincts—and they were telling him that the truth on this matter was much more complex than it seemed. 

“whatever the case.” newt was looking at the two of them gravely. “what matters is who we are now—and what we do, _right now_.” his eyes flitted to thomas, and softened slightly. "you went in to the maze and you found a way out.” 

“yeah,” thomas mumbled lowly, glancing around at the rest of them before staring at the floor. “but if i hadn’t, alby would still be alive."

“maybe,” newt whispered, just as quietly, but he shook his head adamantly. “but i know that if he were here, he’d be telling you the exact same thing. pick your arse up and finish what you started—‘cause if we do nothing, then that means alby died for nothing. and i can’t have that.” 

the two of them shared a look. it seemed almost intimate, as if they were connecting with each other beyond any form he could see. louis felt like an intruder as he watched them, so he opted instead for turning to harry. he was already staring at him, though, and he gave louis a calming smile when he caught his eye. 

“okay,” thomas said eventually. he nodded at the group, minho, harry and chuck mimicking the motion. “okay. but we gotta get through gally first.” 

 

-

 

once again, they were being dragged by gally’s disciples; this time towards the maze doors.  louis could see two wooden poles emerging out from the ground, the remaining gladers gathered around them. banished—it was the word newt had mentioned the first night louis had been in the glade. gally wanted to banish them. 

“this is such a waste,” someone said, louis couldn’t tell who. they’d dropped thomas on to the ground carelessly.

“gally!” winston spoke up. he was shaking his head, taking a cautious step forward. “it doesn’t feel right, man.”

“yeah,” jeff agreed. “what if thomas is right? maybe he can lead us home.”

“we _are_ home, okay?” gally took a couple of menacing steps forward—and if he was meant to sound convincing, he failed. “i don’t want to have to cross any more names off that wall.” and louis couldn’t help but think that his words sounded all too much like a threat. 

“you really think banishing us is going to solve anything?” he urged. 

gally turned to stare at him. “no,” he said, frowning. “but this isn’t a banishing—it’s an offering.”

“a what?” louis stared in horror as the glader holding him shoved him against the pole. “gally! what are you doing?” his hands were being tied above his head. 

gally sounded maniacal when he spoke next. “you really think i’m going to let thomas back in to the maze after what he’s done?” he pointed madly at the space surrounding him. “look around you! look at our glade! this is the only way.” louis was facing the maze. he craned his neck around, and caught minho nod at newt. “and when the grievers get what they came for—“ chuck was advancing on the group with harry beside him, both of them covered in bags. “—everything goes back to the way it was.” 

“are you listening to this?” louis couldn’t believe it. “why are you all just standing there? he’s crazy!” 

gally walked towards him, finger outstretched. "can you shut up?” 

louis ignored him, staring at the gladers who wouldn’t look him in the eye. “if you stay here, the grievers are going to came back,” he urged, imploring them to see the truth. “they’re going to come back—and they’re going to keep coming back until you’re all _dead_!” 

“shut up!” gally was shouting now, face scrunched up in anger. he pointed towards thomas. “tie him up!” when the two gladers beside thomas didn’t move, he turned on them, voice feral, “did you hear me? i said _tie him up_!"

the long blond-haired boy reached down to grab thomas’ arm at the same time thomas’ eyes shot open. he elbowed him, grabbing his weapon as the boy recoiled back in pain. thomas didn’t give the other glader a chance to fight back, whipping the back of it across his face. newt spurred in to action, yanking out his machete, just as louis lifted his leg up and kicked the glader stood in front of him through the legs. frypan cut through the ropes holding his wrists up, and louis moved to stand beside thomas. minho had his own machete pointed at gally’s back, and harry and chuck were running towards the group. 

it was louis, newt, minho, fry, thomas, harry and chuck against the rest of the gladers. fry passed louis a machete. gally was staring at all of them in bewilderment. “you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

thomas had the tip of the spear aimed at him. “you don’t have to come with us, but we _are_ leaving. anyone else who wants to come—now’s your last chance.” 

“don’t listen to him! he’s just trying to scare you, alright—“ 

“ _no_ ,” thomas implored, stressing the single syllable. “i’m not trying to scare you. you’re already scared, alright— _i’m_ scared. but i’d rather risk my life out there then spend the rest of it in here.” he glanced along to all the gladers who were left, begging them to understand. “we don’t belong here, okay—this place isn’t our home. we were put here. we were _trapped_ here. at least out there we have a choice. we can make it out of here, i know that.” 

thomas waited. louis watched as winston headed towards them, jeff in tow. “i’m sorry,” he told gally, before standing beside harry. glader after glader joined their ranks before eventually there were less than a dozen remaining behind with gally. 

“gally,” thomas tried again. “it’s over—just come with us.” 

gally was nodding. “good luck against the grievers,” was all he said, rooted to his position. 

and louis didn’t understand. for someone who’d only been in that place for two days he couldn’t wait to leave it—why was gally, who’d been there almost _two years_ , so adamant on staying? it was a death wish. whatever his reason, louis didn’t spare him another thought. he turned and jogged off along with the rest of their group; into the maze, in search of a way out. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exams have been such a headache (hence why i've uploaded quite a bit later), but they're finally over which means i'll have more time to write! enjoy :) 
> 
> (ps: the scorch trials start in this chapter, and it's this book/movie part that will have the most changes!)
> 
> (pps: i really love seeing the comments you guys write so please don't hesitate to do so; i'd really appreciate it!)

“come on, this way!” thomas was shouting. louis couldn’t know for sure, but he figured he hadn’t been very active in his time before the maze. to top it off, they’d been running for their lives the previous night—and considering he had barely gotten any sleep after, his body was aching and exhausted, begging him to stop. still, he persisted. 

louis kept expecting grievers to jump out at them at any minute. he was so focused on trying not to trip over his own feet that he missed it when the group came to a halt—if it wasn’t for harry grabbing a hold of him, he would’ve toppled over. louis sent him a thankful smile. harry returned the gesture.

they were against a wall, just before an opening. thomas peeked his head out slightly before retreating. “is there griever?” chuck asked. 

he nodded, panting. “yeah.” 

“shit,” whispered the curly-haired boy. 

“you take this, chuck,” minho said, handing him a small, metal device. “stay behind us.” 

“but—“ chuck went to complain. 

harry cut him off. “someone needs to stay behind with louis.”

and then it was louis’ turn to argue. “ _hey_ —“ 

harry shot him an unimpressed look. “louis, i’m sure even gally, all the way back in the glade, can hear your heaving. there’s no time to argue. stay with chuck, and make sure the both of you don’t die."

and louis wanted to protest, say he was fine, that he could keep up with the rest of them—but his body was two seconds away from collapsing, he knew, so he stayed quiet. 

thomas spoke up next, “once we’re through, it’ll activate and the door will open, alright—we stay close, we stick _together_ —we get through this. we get out, _now_.” he was staring directly at newt, then. “or we die trying.” newt gave him a small nod, and louis couldn’t explain how that one, singular motion seemed to ignite a fire within him. “ready?” he slammed his stick against the floor to the sounds of weapons being drawn. “alright, let’s go!"

the group ran weapons-first towards the guarding griever. it screeched out its familiar tune, but there was no fear left in the gladers—not when the hope of escaping was so clear. it charged at them, wailing angrily when the gladers managed to pin it against the ledge. the griever spun its tail around wildly, finding purchase on a glader to the far right. it lifted him up callously and tossed him over the edge, his screams drowned out by the rest of them. 

louis whacked his knife against the leg closest to him, the force causing it to knock in to chuck, who dropped the device. it went rolling towards the edge, chuck running after it. louis called out his name. “watch the edge!” he warned. 

chuck dived over, grabbing hold of it. “oh no,” he said in horror, face to face with an approaching griever. 

“i got you, chuck.” louis held on to his backpack, yanking on it with all the strength he had. 

“pull me up! pull me up!” he was screaming. and just as louis had chuck back on walkway and on his feet, so was the griever—as well as another, behind them. “thomas!” chuck was yelling as they ran towards the group. “ _thomas_!” 

louis saw that they’d managed to defeat the first griever, and apprehension filled all their faces when they saw the oncoming horde. they advanced nonetheless, spears out, louis and chuck running to the door. 

it beeped once they were close enough.  “it worked!” chuck said in awe. 

louis turned back around. the others were just barely keeping the grievers at bay. “louis, go!” thomas yelled. he and chuck continued on.

the stone door lifted, and chuck and louis ducked in. it was another dead end. “come on!” he cried, pounding against the wall. “there’s gotta be another way in.” the group was getting closer—and smaller. “it won’t open—” louis groaned frustratedly—and just then, the wall erupted in colour. circles appeared, the numbers one through eight around them. “thomas!” he yelled after the brunet, who turned immediately. “there’s a code! eight numbers.”

he was saying something louis couldn’t hear; and then he was shouting, “hey, minho! what’s the sequence?” 

minho was losing ground against the griever closest to him. “what?” 

“the sections of the maze— _what’s the sequence_?” 

“seven! one! five! two! six! four!—“ louis pounded in the numbers, but he didn’t get a chance to finish. from up ahead, a griever slid down the walls and landed directly on top of minho, cutting him off. 

“ _minho_!” 

the griever was just inches away from his face, mouth held back by minho’s spear. “get off me!” 

the gladers stood together in fear, nobody knowing what to do until jeff ran forward, screaming out. “ah!” he stabbed his spear into the griever’s head, twisting it in harshly. it gave minho enough space to crawl out from under it as the griever backed away, but jeff was carried along with it. winston cried out his name. 

“minho, what’s the sequence?" chuck yelled. " _come on_!” 

“six, four, eight, three! you got it?” louis punched the remaining two numbers in.

“keep holding!” thomas instructed behind him. “almost there, come on!” 

the screen turned green. the word ‘complete’ flashed out in bold letters and the stone doors began descending down on the grievers. one by one, it trapped them in, until it got to the last door, the griever almost beyond it. thomas threw his spear and it jerked back, dead and no more than a gooey sludge as the door fell on top of it. 

they didn’t get a chance to celebrate. the hole they were in clamped shut, and they were emerged in darkness. 

 

-

 

with the mechanical hissing of a door being opened, light began to shine through. nobody moved a muscle. each glader was heaving, paralysed, as the events of just moments ago finally caught up with them. 

louis was the first to make a move. being at the front of the group, he reached out and pushed the door open fully, cringing back at the onslaught of artificial light. the door creaked loudly at the touch, as if it hadn’t been used in some time—and louis guessed that was exactly the case, what with the maze having been occupied for two years. 

he stepped out. for all that he’d gone through, louis didn’t expect to walk out into a hallway mostly emerged in darkness. it was completely disappointing, looking around and seeing no more than grey walls—the very same colour as the ones that had kept them within the maze in the first place. 

louis turned to thomas expectantly; thomas himself looked perplexed, scoping out the area around them, confusion painted across his features. the lights began to turn on one by one, all the way across the stretch of ceiling, lighting the hallway in the direction ahead, almost as if guiding them.

nobody said a word. louis thought their silence was much louder than anything they could’ve possibly said. they started forward, footsteps light and muffled as they headed on cautiously. 

thomas came to a stop outside of the first door they came across. it was an ordinary thing, metal and rectangular with a flashing sign above it that read ‘EXIT’ in block capital letters—and louis really didn’t find it funny yet he was overcome with the urge to laugh.

fry voiced everyone’s thoughts, “ _seriously_?” 

thomas took slow, tentative steps forward. he reached out his hand, hovering over the handle with one last meaningful look back at the gladers before he pushed it open. and just like the time after the grievers had left—it was chaos. 

alarms were blaring, flashing yellow as they spun relentlessly. bodies were scattered across the floor, draped in white lab suits—and louis felt a tugging in his mind, something that told him he knew exactly who these people were. blood splashed the walls behind them, steam clouding the room. the gladers walked on. 

the window beside louis made him halt momentarily; it was peering in to an operating room. lying across two tables were bloodstained sheets covering what louis could only have assumed were dead people. it wasn’t the picture that had him stunned though, no—it was the memories he found attached to it. suddenly he was transported back. he didn’t know when or why, but it was him on the operating table, the very same blonde woman in his dreams staring down at him, calling out his name. whenever and wherever that had been, louis had had his memories then. 

“what happened here?” someone whispered lowly, and louis shook his head, turned around. there were men behind him, lying on their stomach, guns just out of reach. whoever they were, it was obvious that they’d died murdering the very same people he’d just had his eyes on. 

thomas led them in to the room adjacent; it was even worse than the previous. cables that had been hit in the crossfire were fizzling, sparks shooting out. more lab coats were stained red, surrounding the centre of the room where giant, floating screens—the ones that were still functional—held words and images louis didn’t understand. other screens dotted the outside walls, machines scattered here and there with uses louis couldn’t even begin to explain. 

newt had stopped in front of a set of computers, harry beside him, the two of them nodding in understanding. “so they _were_ watching us. this whole time.” 

louis had traipsed across the room in an arc, stopping short when he saw thomas in front of him. they were separated by a screen, and louis’ mind was screaming, his heart hammering—it was all too familiar. thomas looked up, straight at him, and louis feared that thomas’ memories of the two of them siding with the same people who put them and their friends in the maze weren’t as crazy as he’d originally thought. 

thomas looked back down. he reached out carefully, and tapped something on the screen; a video playing. 

“hello,” a woman called out—the same woman louis saw in his dreams; the one who repeated the words "WICKED is good” over and over in his head. “my name is doctor ava paige.” all eyes were on her. she was in the same room they were in now, before disaster had hit. “i’m the director of operations at the world in catastrophe: kill zone experiment department.” _WICKED_. “if you’re watching this, then that means you’ve successfully completed the maze trials.” newt and thomas were advancing towards the screen. louis felt frozen. “i wish i could be there in person to congratulate you—“ alarms were now blaring in the background—the same ones the gladers had seen when they first entered. “—but circumstances seemed to have prevented it. i’m sure by now you must all be very confused, angry, frightened. i can only assure you that everything that’s happened to you—everything we’ve done to you—it was all done for a reason. you won’t remember,” she continued, and louis felt that very same, crazy urge to laugh. “but the sun has scorched our world. billions of lives lost to fire.” the screen displayed videos of buildings, people and houses all alight. “famine, suffering on a global scale. the fallout was unimaginable.” the next shot were the bodies; burnt and numerous. “what came after was worse—we called it the flare.” cells were magnified onto the screen, a black, squirming substance moving over them rapidly to cover as much as it could—a virus. the woman confirmed louis’ thoughts. “a deadly virus that attacks the brain. it is violent, unpredictable.” videos of people shaking in pain, dark veins covering them until they were almost unrecognisable. louis felt like throwing up. “ _incurable_ —or so we thought.” thomas turned to look at him then. louis suspected they both knew where this was heading. "in time a new generation emerged that could survive the virus—suddenly, there was a reason to hope for a cure. but finding it would not be easy. the young would have to be tested—even sacrificed—inside harsh environments where their brain activity could be studied. all in an effort to understand what makes them different—what makes _you_ different. you may not realise it, but you’re very important. unfortunately, your trials have only just begun.” the people behind her were running now. shots were being fired, glass smashed. “as you’ll soon discover, not everyone agrees with our methods. progress is slow. people are scared. it may be too late for us—“ more gunshots—the men louis had seen draped across the floor were alive and holding guns. “—for me. but not for you. the outside world awaits. remember—“ the woman, ava, leaned forward then, retracting something out of her pocket. she held a gun up to her head. “WICKED is good,” she said, before the gunshot went off and her body sagged off of the chair, the video ending. louis felt like screaming. 

thomas turned away. he walked through the group, newt tracking his movements. louis saw then what thomas did—it was ava, splayed out across the floor. the gladers gathered around, staring at her body. 

a hissing sound rang out behind them—a door was being opened. they all turned at once.  “is it over?” chuck asked, staring ahead. 

“she said we were important,” newt remarked, looking around. “what are we supposed to do now?” 

thomas shook his head. “i don’t know," he said quietly. “but let's get out of here.”

“ _no_ ,” spoke a voice, just after they’d all taken a step forward. all heads turned to the right—it was gally. 

thomas stepped forward. "gally?"

“don’t,” louis warned, holding on to his shoulder. gally was crying, face puffed out and red. “he’s been stung.” 

gally dropped the metal device they’d used to enter the griever hole on to the ground. louis didn’t know where he got it from—or if it was even the same one. there was a gun in his other hand, and he was shaking his head. “we can’t leave.” it was the same words alby had said once he’d woken up. the gun in his hand was quivering, along with gally himself. harry reached out and placed his own against louis', squeezing.

“we did,” thomas tried to reason with him, hands held out defensively, cautiously. “gally, we’re out. we’re free.” 

“free?” he scoffed, crazed. “you think we’re _free_ out there? no—no, there’s no escape from this place.” gally was raising the gun, and it was aimed directly at thomas. 

“gally, listen to me—you’re not thinking straight. you’re not. we can help you—just put down the gun.” 

gally was past understanding. “i belong to the maze—"

“just put down the gun.”

“we all do!” 

“gally—“ 

louis heard chuck yell out, and the next thing he knew a spear went flying past his head and straight into gally’s chest. gally started heaving, knees giving out as he collapsed against the floor, stilling. 

“thomas,” chuck said softly, red staining his top. louis hadn’t even heard the gun go off. chuck tilted backwards, thomas catching him in his arms before he could fall. louis dropped down beside them.

“chuck, oh, no— _shit_.” thomas was placing frantic hands all over him, tugging him closer. “shit. look at me, look at me, _look at me_.” chuck's breaths were coming out choppy. “shit, chuck, just keep looking at me, alright? look at me.” 

he gripped thomas’ arm weakly. “thomas,” he choked out, causing the brunet to still. with his other hand he unsteadily held out a wooden figure. 

thomas was already shaking his head, voice wet. “no, no, chuck—you’re going to give this to them yourself, remember? i told you that.” 

louis felt tears in his eyes. “take it,” the little glader said adamantly, holding on to thomas’ hand. “thank you,” he was whispering, eyes turning up. “thank you.”

“no, no, chuck, no.” thomas was muttering nonstop, pulling him even closer to him. “chuck?” he called out when the boy stilled. louis shoved a hand over his mouth, turning away. “chuck? hey!” thomas was shaking him crazily, breath erratic. “chuck, hey—come on! _wake up_.” 

louis felt the tears soak his top before he’d even realised he was crying. he got up at once, and wished beyond anything that he could be anywhere but in that room, thomas’ cries ringing out painfully. he couldn’t stand it—he felt his heart break in to little pieces, rage gripping at the edges. it was unfair—they’d made it out. that was supposed to be it. the trials were over—nobody else was meant to die. 

“damn it.” thomas wouldn’t let him go, and he wouldn’t stop sobbing. "no, _we made it_ —come on. i’m sorry,” he was choking out. “ _i’m sorry._ goddamn it!”

louis felt an arm on his shoulder. he fell back into the touch at once, knowing immediately who it was. harry’s other arm circled around him, holding him against his chest. a clanging sounded, distant enough that nobody paid it any attention. then it happened again, and the mourning gladers turned to look behind them—all except thomas who was still crying out. a door had opened, light spilling out abundantly. 

“thomas,” louis called out as men in black came running in with guns held against their chests, masks covering their faces.

“get up, chuck!” thomas was shouting, oblivious to what was happening. louis ached for him. he wanted to reach out and pull him away, but one of the masked men had taken hold of his arm and was dragging him and harry towards the exit. the rest of the gladers were being corralled out, thomas staggering back to chuck’s body when the men attempted to move him. he was shouting out in protest, but they outnumbered him. 

louis held on to harry’s hand as they stepped out into the sand. it was the first time he could remember ever seeing the scorched substance, never mind the helicopter up ahead of them. the men were pushing them into it urgently—and louis didn’t think about who the people were or where they were taking them. for once, he didn’t question anything; the weight of all they’d lost to get to where they were now hanging heavy on his shoulders—with harry’s hand in his palm, though, he felt like maybe the weight wasn’t all that suffocating. 

as soon as thomas was in, the door was slammed shut. one of the men were sat with them. he pulled his mask down, revealing kind enough eyes and a smiling face—louis thought he’d never trusted anyone less. “you guys alright?” the gladers looked at each other. nobody knew what to make of him, or their situation. “don’t worry—you’re safe now.” 

the helicopter took off and louis turned to stare out of the window. he felt his hands tremble—not out of fear, but anger. they were high enough now that they could see the whole of the maze; it was surrounded by layer upon layer of walls. looking down at it now, it seemed so insignificant compared to how vast and endless it had felt like inside. louis couldn’t believe that he’d almost been trapped in there for years—or however long he’d have lasted. 

he hadn’t realised he was still holding harry’s hand until harry gave it a small squeeze. louis returned the gesture.

“relax, kids,” the man spoke again, as everyone collapsed back. he gave the group a comforting smile. “everything’s going to change.” 

and no matter how little louis trusted this man, he knew that his words were undoubtably the truth. 

 

-

 

somehow louis had managed to fall asleep. his head was against harry’s shoulder, his hand still held tightly in harry's palm. he was beyond thankful when harry shook him out of his slumber—he’d been having a nightmare; one where they were back in the maze, where they didn’t make it out and the grievers had prevailed. he’d watched everyone die right before his eyes then, with no way of helping them. harry had been the first to go, calling out louis’ name as he was dragged away. 

“louis,” harry said, this time very much alive, jostling him awake. “hey, we need to go.” 

louis sat up abruptly, the events of the last couple of hours catching up with him. the sound of the helicopter was deafening. they’d landed somewhere, but louis couldn’t see much beside endless plumes of sand. minho was yelling at thomas to get up when louis and harry stumbled out. 

the masked men were calling out urgently, pushing them forward. “come on, we don’t have much time!” they were shouting, and louis went to ask what they meant when he heard the reason of their haste—something was screeching. louis’ heart hammered in his chest, praying it wasn’t the return of grievers. the sound was gaining on them, and louis stopped running forward long enough to squint into the distance. bodies were approaching— _human_ bodies. they were the ones making the noise. “cranks!” one of the men yelled out, pushing louis onward. 

gunshots were going off and louis had lost track of harry. he carried on, heading to the only building in sight, huge and out of place in the otherwise deserted area. lights lit the way, men with guns positioned around them. as soon as all the gladers were inside, the enormous grey doors were slammed shut, numerous locks closing it up tight—and though it was more than likely the locks were meant to keep the people the men had called ‘cranks' out, louis felt like it was also there to keep them in. he walked over to the group of gladers, his attention landing on harry who walked up to him the moment they caught each other’s eyes, relief smoothing his features. 

thomas split through the group, looking around. louis took the time to do the same. there wasn’t much to see; boxes filled the space beside the path they were currently on, steps lining the walls above, men running around all over. it was an organised type of chaos, everything in its place messily. louis found himself wondering for the first time just who these people were and what they wanted. 

someone was leading them forward. “where are we going?” thomas asked, but the man continued on without a word. newt turned to him questioningly, thomas nodding for them to carry on, the gladers following wordlessly as they were led in to a room. “what’s going on?” thomas tried again. 

“nothing we can’t handle,” the man said abruptly. he didn’t give them a chance to enquire further, closing the door hastily. 

thomas began pounding against it. “hey! let us out!” 

the rest of the gladers had turned around. louis froze, eyes wide as they landed on the table in the middle of the room—and he could definitely hear stomachs grumbling. at everyone’s silence, thomas finally came to join them. he walked to the front of the group where the wooden table was covered all over with various kinds of food, not a single spot left empty. it hit louis then that nobody had eaten since yesterday afternoon.

“dibs on the rice!” fry spoke suddenly, running straight for it. the rest of the gladers spurred in to action. 

though there were seats and plates ready for them to use, nobody bothered. hands shot out and grabbed all they could, everyone chewing with a ferocity they didn’t know they had. louis couldn't recall the last time he’d had food on this scale—or at all, really. his time in the glade had caused him to lose whatever appetite he must have had. everyone was clearly pleased, chuckles scattering here and there. louis thought it was the first time he’d heard any of them laugh. 

“this is way better than frypan’s slop!” winston joked. the gladers began throwing food at each other, laughter filling the room. 

“the rice!” fry was yelling out in glee, stuffing as much of it in his mouth as he could. “the rice!”

louis caught harry’s eye from across the table. he was smiling goofily at him, a piece of chicken from the drumstick he had held in his hand stuck to his face. louis couldn’t contain his snort, reaching over to swipe it off of his face. harry blushed, shooting him a quick, “thanks,” before he dived back in for another bite. and as louis looked around, at his friends who were all free to act their age without the worries of the world weighing them down, he allowed himself to hope. he allowed his guard to drop long enough to enjoy this moment with them, revelling in the smiles he had never seen before. 

 

-

 

“i don’t know who these guys are,” fry said, once the table had been cleared significantly and they’d all sprawled out across the floor. he was still spooning a bowl of rice in his lap. “but they can _cook_.”

“but who are they really, though?” louis asked, one hand against his stomach, the other brushing harry’s beside him. “i mean, we don’t know anything about them.” 

newt answered from his place above him, “well, we know they’re no friends of WICKED.”

minho, who was lying across the table, nodded resolutely. “that’s good enough for me.” he sat up slightly when the rest of them remained quiet, exasperated. “you guys think too much. we’re _free_ —enjoy it.” 

and louis glanced at thomas, whose eyes held the same apprehension his did. he knew the two of them would always be suspicious in a way the others weren’t. he wondered over just how useful that trait was—or if it was nothing but a burden. 

the door began to open. everyone sat up, looking towards it at once. thomas was the first to jump to his feet. a man walked through, draped in a leather jacket and a knowing smile. his eyes held a spark louis felt like he knew. “you kids doing alright? sorry about all the fuss, we had ourselves a bit of a swarm.”

“who are you?” thomas asked, as the gladers stood behind him. 

the man looked down with a small smirk. louis decided instantly that he didn’t like him. “i’m the reason you’re all still alive—and it’s my intention to keep you that way. now,” he said, taking a step back. “come with me. we’ll get you kids squared away.” 

 

-

 

a shower. louis couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in one, but that wasn’t anything particularly new considering he could barely remember anything at all. he’d stripped out of his clothes and walked straight into the scolding hot water the second janson—what the man had told them to call him—had left, shutting his eyes against the protests of his skin. it felt like more than just the dirt that had accumulated on him was washed away as he stood under the showerhead. he felt the tension in him ease up just a little bit, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he pressed his head against the wall. 

a sanctuary; a home between homes—that’s what janson had called this place. louis couldn’t stop thinking about how he had answered minho’s question of why he was helping them. “the fact that you can survive the flare virus makes you humanity’s best chance at human survival,” he’d said. so he protected those who were immune. why then had it taken them two years to rescue the gladers from the maze? and why had they only come through the doors _after_ they'd watched ava’s video if they were there that whole time? louis knew it could’ve been no more than a coincidence—but considering his knack towards pessimism, he couldn’t find it in him to believe that it was. 

he shook his head, dunking it under the water as if it would help clear the nagging thoughts in his mind. this was a good thing, he knew. they were out of WICKED’s control and out of the maze. whatever was coming next, he wouldn’t spoil it by shoving his own doubts down everyone’s throat. 

 

-

 

**_thomas_  **

thomas was suspicious—and that was putting it lightly. he knew louis harboured the exact some worries that he did, saw it in the way he overanalysed every word that was said to them, brows furrowed in concentration as he listened out for a mistake, any sign that they weren’t being told the truth. thomas had been doing the exact same — and just like louis, he couldn’t find any plausible reason for his distrust towards janson and all the people who worked with him. but that didn’t mean he would stop looking. 

after the showers they’d each been given a new set of clothes, their old ones taken away and discarded. thomas had all but preened at the feel of soft, clean cotton against his skin, pulling on the baby blue shirt quickly. they were taken to a different section of the building after, the group separated throughout it as their vitals were checked. 

thomas was sat opposite a nurse who’d just taken out a fourth vial of his blood. “sure you got enough there?” he muttered sarcastically, the man giving him a tight smile. 

“evening, doctor crawford,” he said, when a woman in a lab coat came sauntering through, high heels clicking against the floor. 

she didn’t stop, but gave a small nod of acknowledgement as she walked straight to the end of the room. “good evening. how are the new arrivals holding up?” 

the nurse stood, grabbing the stack of vials as he headed off to place them elsewhere. “so far so good.” thomas looked down at his arm then, rubbing at the spot where the needle had been. 

“and you must be teresa,” the woman said, thomas’ head shooting up instantly. before she closed the curtain, thomas managed to catch a slight glimpse of the person behind it—but it was enough. _teresa_. it was the girl he’d seen in his memories. 

thomas made to get up and walk over, but a figure came and stood before him. “thomas?”

it was one of the men he’d seen before. thomas glanced at the end of the room, his curiosity running wild, before turning his attention back to the person in front of him. “yeah?” 

“come with me, please.” 

with reluctance, he did. as he was walking off, he looked over his shoulder. doctor crawford was drawing the curtain on the other side, but thomas caught teresa’s eye before she did. she stared at him, shocked, before disappearing behind the curtain seconds later. 

 

-

 

he was sat at a table. it seemed almost like an interrogation room, what with the table and two chairs being the only thing in there. there was a glass pane to his left, but he couldn’t see out of it—reflective, he guessed. thomas glanced at the camera above him just as the door opened, janson walking in. 

“thomas.” he’d taken off his jacket, shooting him a small smile as he walked in. “thank you for seeing me. sorry for the inconvenience — i was just hoping we might get a moment to chat in private, away from the others.” thomas sat back, retracting his hands off of the table, but didn’t offer a word. “well,” janson continued, pulling the other chair back and taking a seat. “i won’t take up too much of your time. i really only have one question—what do you remember about WICKED?” he paused, waiting for an answer. thomas narrowed his eyes at him in disbelief. “you’re not in trouble. we’re just having a conversation—i’m just trying to understand.”

“understand what?” 

janson’s eyes were boring in to him. “whose side are you on?”

thomas sat up straighter. it was almost obvious that janson knew more than he was letting on, that he knew some part of thomas’ past, to whatever extent — and that more than anything caused alarm bells to go ringing off in his head. still, he answered truthfully, “i remember i used to work for WICKED. i remember that they sent me into the maze. i remember watching my friends _die_ in front of me—i’m on _their_ side.”

“interesting,” he said, tilting his head slightly. "you say you worked for WICKED, yet they sent you in to the maze—why would they do something like that?"

"i don't know,” thomas replied, biting. "maybe you should’ve asked them before you killed them all."

janson’s lip twitched. he sat back, a smirk playing at his lips. “well, i’ll be sure to keep that in mind." he stood up then, giving thomas a small nod. "enjoy the rest of your stay." 

“that's it?” thomas was almost tempted to ask him about teresa but he decided against it. 

“yeah, you’ve told me everything i need to know.” janson opened the door, standing in front of it. "you and your friends have all been cleared to join the others. soon, you’ll all be moving on to greener pastures." 

“wait,” thomas said, brows furrowed. “others?”

 

-

 

it was the closest thing to a canteen thomas had ever seen. numerous tables dotted the area, kids filling every single one. thomas couldn’t believe there were more immunes out there. 

“hey, thomas,” minho called out, walking up to him. 

thomas was relieved to find that he was okay. he nodded around him. “hey minho, what’s going on?” 

minho shook his head in disbelief. “we weren’t the only maze.” he started off, walking towards one of the tables. “come on.” 

thomas recognised the back of newt’s head soon enough. he took the seat directly beside him before minho could, newt giving him a soft smile when he did. thomas looked around, eyebrows furrowing. “where are the others?” 

“some of us were in a worser state and needed more treatments,” newt explained. 

“louis?” 

minho nodded. “louis the most.” 

and thomas couldn’t explain it, but he hated the thought of louis out there alone with those doctors. almost as if newt sensed his unease, he added, “harry’s with him—refused to leave his side.” and that certainly lessened the weight in his chest.

“those guys over there,” minho said, motioning towards the little group of boys at the end of the table they were seated at. “they were in their maze for four years.” 

“they said janson rescued them from inside,” fry continued, shaking his head. “been here only a day since.” 

“but there’s one kid,” newt said, picking up his cup and taking a sip before he nodded to the boy sat alone a couple of tables over, head covered in a hoodie as he stared down in to his plate. “they said he’s been here the longest—almost a week.” 

minho scoffed. “and his maze was nothing but girls.” 

thomas went to speak when a voice boomed out, janson walking to the centre of the room, “good evening, gentlemen.” he gave a small nod, smiling. “ladies. you all know how this works—if you hear your name called please rise in an orderly fashion and join my colleagues behind me.” he turned slightly, glancing behind him, then reverted back to his original position. “they will escort you to the eastern wing where your new lives are about to begin.” 

applause rang out, kids leaning forward in their seats excitedly. janson opened up the folder he had cradled in his hands. he gave the eager crowd one last knowing look before reading out the first name, “connor.” a whoop came from behind him, and thomas turned to see a little blond boy high five his friend, jogging forward. “will, dan, scott, allison, squiggy.” the list went on, laughs sounding out at the nickname. janson tutted disapprovingly, tone stern, “all right, settle down.” he waited until there was silence before continuing on, “malia—and kat.” with that, he slammed the folder shut, a chorus of ‘aww’s sounding out. “now, now, don’t get discouraged,” he said sympathetically, though thomas wondered just how genuine it really was. he began walking backwards, hands outstretched as if to say he was helpless. "if i could take more, i would—but there’s always tomorrow. your time will come. now go on, eat up.” 

minho turned to the boy beside him as janson left with the group, the same one he’d nodded to when retelling the story of the other boys’ maze. “where are they going?”

the boy sighed wistfully. “somewhere far from here, lucky bastards.” 

his friend spoke up next to him, disappointed. “some kind of farm—a safe space. they can only take in a couple few at a time.” 

thomas looked around. there was a glass window to the right of him, and walking by just then was the girl, teresa, doctor stevens accompanying her. and if that wasn’t enough to have him lift off his seat in order to investigate, louis was trailing along behind them, harry nowhere to be seen. 

“what the hell,” he whispered under his breath, getting up at once. thomas didn’t wait to explain to newt and the others where he was going. he headed straight for the exit where two guards were standing watch, following louis through the window. “hey, louis. _louis_!” louis turned then, brows furrowed until he met thomas’ eyes, but he was dragged away and out of sight, the girl already having disappeared around the corner before him. 

thomas went to follow, but a hand against his chest pushed him back. “hey, hey,” said one of the guards, shaking his head.

“where are they taking him?” he demanded. 

the guard’s face was stoic as he answered, “they just have to run a few more tests. don’t worry—they’ll be done with him soon.” 

“is he okay?” 

thomas could see the apathy in his eyes as he gave a curt nod. “he’s fine.”

and thomas, who was looking for any reason to distrust this place, was finding it increasingly harder to remain to calm. he wanted to demand answers; he hated the feeling of being left in the dark—but he knew better. if his suspicions were correct and these people harboured nothing but bad intentions, making a scene was the last thing he needed to do. with a fleeting look at the door, he took a step back. he would comply—for now, that was. 

 

-

 

_ **newt** _

newt wasn’t sure what to call the rooms they’d given them to sleep in. the way the beds were positioned, perfectly in line with the others and stripped to the simplest bedding one could afford—as well as the lack of detail and homey feel to it—almost made it seem like barracks you’d find in an army base, but it was the comfiest he’d seen in a while. 

fry walked through first, minho racing past. “i call top bunk,” he said, hoisting himself up on to the bed closest to the door. he sighed down at fry mockingly. “too slow.” 

winston was spread out across one of the bottom bunks, nodding his satisfaction. “i could get used to this,” he said.

“yeah,” newt agreed—it definitely was an upgrade from the hammocks the rest of the boys had to sleep in. "it’s not bad.”  

when all of them had walked in, the door slammed shut behind them, a lock sounding out. newt tried his hardest not to get dragged along with thomas’ constant fear of the worst, but his own fear of confinement spiked up every time those people locked them in a room—and it was happening more times than he was comfortable with. seconds later, it opened again—a disgruntled harry being nudged in before it shut once more. 

“harry.” thomas instantly shot forward. “what happened?”

harry frustratedly yanked a hand through his hair, face scrunched up in anger. “they said his health was worrying—that they needed to do more tests on him.” 

“what kind of tests?” 

he shook his head. “i don’t know. i managed to get a quick look at the notes they’d made—his iron levels are low; lower than any of ours should’ve been—but he was the last one to come up in the box. his health couldn’t have deteriorated that drastically since then.” 

newt's eyebrows drew together as he rubbed at his arms unconsciously. “what are you saying?”

“i’m not saying anything.” harry looked thomas in the eye then. “i just find it sceptical that they wouldn’t allow me to go with him.” 

“the girl,” thomas spoke up, attention landing on him. “the one i’ve been dreaming about— _remembering_ —she was here. i saw her being led away to the same place louis was.” 

harry looked unsure. “what do you think those people are doing with louis?” 

“look,” newt said consolingly. “if there’s one thing i know about that boy, it’s that he can take care of himself.”

“don’t worry about it,” minho said, giving harry a small smile. “this isn’t WICKED anymore.” 

 

-

 

 

newt wanted nothing more than to put thomas at ease—that, or punch him so hard he was forced into unconsciousness. he was anxiously pacing up and down the room, stopping short and staring at the door every so often. the rest of the gladers had succumbed to the fatigue and accepted the comfort of actual mattresses, falling asleep instantly—even harry, whose face remained frowning and troubled, knocked out the second his face hit the pillow. thomas hadn’t even so much as gone near his bed. 

newt sighed, lifting himself up and dangling his feet over the edge when the brunet showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. “tommy.”

“newt?” thomas paused, looking up in confusion. “what are you doing awake?” 

“your bloody pacing is hard to ignore.” 

thomas grimaced. “i’m sorry,” he said miserably, walking up to their bunk and taking a seat. he sighed heavily and dropped his head in to his hands. “i just don’t trust this place.” 

newt snorted. “like you haven’t made that clear enough.” when thomas didn’t even offer a smile, newt used the ladder to help him down. he sat beside thomas, who raised his head and stared at him questioningly. “look, nobody’s asking you to believe everything these shanks are telling us—i sure don’t. but they’re giving us food and proper beds and toilets. it’s more than a lot of us have had in a while—some longer than others. you can’t blame them for choosing comfort over your doubts. hell, if i didn’t trust you so much i would be in the same boat as them.” 

thomas bit his lip hesitantly. they were both so close now that newt could trace every doubtful flutter that passed over his face. “why do you?” he whispered, and newt was so focused on just how small the gap between them was that he missed the question altogether. 

“what?”

“why do you trust me?” he repeated, and the question hit newt harder than it probably should’ve. why _did_ he trust him? he’d known thomas for a total of four days now—but that wasn't right. louis, harry and thomas were all adamant that the four of them had known each other for years—and even though newt couldn’t remember a thing from his time before the maze (and there was no exception for surfacing memories like the other three), he knew that their words felt right. meeting thomas was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater for so long; before he’d even realised it, newt had put total faith in him—and there wasn’t a single part of him that regretted it. 

newt didn’t say any of that, though. “you got us out of the maze, tommy,” he decided on instead. with a pat to thomas' shoulder, newt stood quickly; and it was half because he feared the pounding in his chest meant something other than thomas’ worries affecting him and half because he was too tired to be sitting up any longer. “you saved us,” he said lastly, finally, as he climbed back on to his own bed. “now get some sleep—and please, no more pacing.” 

newt heard thomas huff out a small laugh and smiled in victory at the sound. he waited a little while longer until he could hear the tell-tale shuffling of thomas finally lying down—and only then did he allow his drooping eyes to close, granting himself some much needed rest. 

 

-

 

_ **harry** _

he’d heard the whole of thomas and newt’s conversation. he was sure they thought everyone else was sleeping—and he had been, too, yet a particularly horrifying dream had caused him to wake up in a sweat. he hadn’t meant to listen in, but the quiet room had left him with no other option. he wanted to speak up, tell them he was awake; but something in thomas’ voice, small and vulnerable, kept him from doing so—and the tugging in his chest told him he knew exactly why newt cut the conversation short. 

harry willed himself to fall asleep again. he couldn’t stop thinking about louis, about the way he’d looked back at harry as he was being escorted away, barely concealing his unease. the pressure in his chest wouldn’t let up, and harry had the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t until he saw louis again. there was nothing he could do, no way he could escape the room and go searching for him, so he forced himself to count sheep until thoughts of _louis, louis, louis_ drifted away. it took 2399 sheep before his breaths evened out and he was too far gone to hear thomas wake up and leave through the vents. 

 

-

 

“harry.” a hand was shoving at him harshly. “harry!” 

with a start, harry shot up. he forgot that he’d taken one of the lower bunks, groaning as he rubbed at his head where he’d slammed in to the bed above. he turned to where thomas was crouched, face grave. “what is it? is it louis?” 

thomas shook his head. “i found something,” he said, voice low. harry noted then the gladers surrounding his bed, all looking equally bedraggled and unimpressed. 

he furrowed his brows. “you found something?” 

“yeah,” thomas said quickly, looking behind him at the rest of the group. “bodies.” 

“bodies?” minho repeated, looking dubious. 

“yes,” he answered frustratedly. “i crawled through the vents and i saw doctor stevens lead two gurneys covered in sheets in to a restricted area.” 

newt was staring at him in disbelief. “where the bloody hell did you find the time to do that?” 

“it doesn’t matter.” thomas was shaking his head. he stood up and headed to the door. "look, we have all the proof we need. this place isn’t what they say it is.” 

“thomas, just cool it for a minute,” minho cut in, rising. “how did you even get in to the vents?” 

“aris.”

“who?”

“the boy who’s been here the longest,” he explained, walking to his bed. he dropped down on to his knees and lifted the covers, revealing the entrance to the vents. “he came through here last night and showed me the bodies. guys, this is what we’ve been looking for, alright—it’s proof that we can’t trust them.”

“tommy—“ newt started, but suddenly the echo of locks being opened reverberated through the room and he cut himself off. 

the gladers stood back, waiting as the door opened and one of the men who had led them to their room the last time revealed himself. “breakfast,” was all he said, taking a step back as he held the door open. staring blankly at the group. newt shot thomas a look as if to say ‘drop it’—and harry thought the hard set of thomas’ jaw as he passed the man gave newt the resolute ‘no’ he didn’t say. 

 

-

 

they were in the canteen. harry hadn’t accompanied the gladers when they’d seen it yesterday, so minho had to lean over and explain why janson stood in the middle of the room calling out names. “clary,” he said, each name causing the smirk on his face to grow as a different kid cheered and their friends whooped. "markus, jem, lexis, kara—“ 

thomas was glaring straight ahead. “i want to know what’s through that door,” he said. 

newt turned to him at once. “no—we’ve been over this. you said they were covered up, so you don’t know what you saw. it could’ve been anything under there—“ 

thomas wouldn't be swayed. "i know exactly what i saw—they were bodies. aris said they bring in a new batch every night.” 

“—and last but not least,” janson was still saying. “—david. thank you for your attention—enjoy the rest of your day!” applause rang out as janson and the chosen group of kids walked away. harry couldn’t help but go over what thomas had told him, wondering if they really were being led to their deaths. 

“okay, until we know anything for certain,” newt said, keeping his head forward so as not to be obvious as he addressed the gladers. “we should keep our heads down and try not to draw any attention to ourselves, alright?” and harry, who was sat opposite thomas and was watching the way his nostrils flared and hand tapped against the table, was the furthest from surprised when thomas rose immediately, the plate in front of him rattling at the unexpected action. he jogged towards the guarded door, newt’s wide eyes trailing after him. “what is he doing?”

“i think he’s drawing attention to himself,” fry mumbled, minho shaking his head exasperatedly.

harry watched as the guard shoved a hand against thomas’ chest once he was close enough, saying something as he pushed him back. thomas tried to walk past one more time, only to be stopped again. harry couldn’t make out what they were saying, but all at once the guard’s face took on a menacing look and he was thrusting his finger at him. thomas turned around then—and harry almost believed he had accepted defeat—when his face twitched knowingly and he spun, running straight at the guards. 

newt jumped to his feet when the guards roughly threw thomas back. harry and the gladers followed him as he shot towards them, ready to defend thomas. 

“hey, what’s your problem, man? what the hell!” thomas thundered, shoving the man back with equal force. 

the guard looked furious as he went to push thomas again. “back off!” he yelled. 

“why won’t you let me see him?” thomas demanded as newt reached him. he grabbed on to his arm to catch him, the rest of gladers stood around defensively with harry, who had his fists clenched in expectance, at his side.

“oi,” janson’s voice cut through the commotion, breaking through the group to stand in front of the guards. “what’s happening here?” he spun around, staring both the guards and thomas down. “thomas? i thought we could trust each other.” he placed an imploring hand on his shoulder. “you know we’re all on the same team, here.”

thomas wouldn't break eye contact. “are we?” he whispered back. 

janson raised his eyebrows as he stared down at the ground in silent amusement. harry didn't see what part of this was funny, and as the seconds ticked by he was beginning to understand why louis and thomas trusted this place so little. “get them to their bunks,” he said finally, face devoid of any humour, the surrounding guards reacting instantly. they grabbed ahold of every glader, forcibly escorting them out of the canteen as janson watched on with a smirk. 


	5. Chapter 5

they’d only just left him alone. since the moment the nurse checking his vitals had looked down at his results with furrowed brows, louis had been swarmed with various people in lab coats jabbing needles in to him, answering every question he asked with, “don’t worry about it”. it didn’t help; he  _was_  worrying—and not only about himself. harry had been pulled away as lightly as they could manage without causing a scene, all the while voicing his distress at having to leave louis—and louis thought it was a miracle that they even allowed him to stay by his side as long as he did, what with harry asking after every scribble the doctors wrote down, every needle they picked up and every new face that entered the room. he gave harry a small nod as he was being led out, hoping it conveyed enough to tell him that he would be fine—judging by the grimace harry gave him in return, it didn’t. and then there was thomas. the last he’d seen of him he was calling out his name, stuck behind a glass as louis was dragged away. doctor crawford had insisted his health was much more important, and that he could speak to thomas after he was tended to. louis wanted to disagree, but the nudge the guard behind gave him made it seem like her words were more than just a suggestion, so he shut his mouth and reluctantly trailed after the mysterious girl behind doctor crawford. 

the same girl was now sat on the bed opposite him. whatever the doctors had administered to them last night had caused them to fall asleep instantly. when he woke, the girl was already up, staring at the ceiling unblinkingly. she had soft, blue eyes that held a sadness in them he wanted to know the cause of. she hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d been together, only offering short nods at whatever the doctors had said the day before, gaze elsewhere. louis himself had kept quiet after the doctors dismissed his questions for the ninth time, opting instead to take in his surroundings. with the room finally empty save the two of them, he could see that there was only one way out—and judging by the small window pane on the door, there were guards positioned outside it. louis hadn’t decided yet if it was for his own safety or other, more unpleasant reasons. 

louis startled, eyes darting to the girl to find her staring right at him, head tilted calculatingly. “you're louis,” was all she said. it wasn’t a question, but louis nodded. she did the same. “who was that boy calling out your name?” 

louis furrowed his brows, about to ask her what she meant until realisation hit and he sat a little bit higher, arm aching in protest as he used it to hoist himself up. “my friend—thomas.”

“thomas,” the girl repeated, face scrunched in confusion. she stared down at her hands and shook her head. “i don’t know him.” 

and louis almost found himself puzzled once again, but understanding dawned on him. “what are you doing here—“ louis squinted at the scribble on top of the papers at the edge of her bed. “—teresa?” 

“i—“ teresa shook her head again. “i don’t know.” 

“you don’t know,” louis prodded, edging closer. “or you can’t remember?” 

at that, she raised her head. her eyes narrowed ever so slightly but she gave a curt nod. “how did you know?” 

louis gave a small shrug. “lucky guess,” he said jokingly. he motioned towards himself. “same boat, actually.” 

teresa’s eyes were focused so wholly on him that louis felt uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, diverting his attention to the needle poking out of his arm until she spoke again, “why do i get the feeling that i know you?” 

“maybe you do,” louis said wearily. and it was true—louis had no recollection of any of the gladers beside harry, newt and thomas, but he had known them in his time before the maze; it could very well be the same with teresa. he looked towards the door, no sign of anyone entering anytime soon—or leaving, for that matter. “teresa—why are you here?” 

“they said they needed to run some checks—“ she started, but louis shook his head. 

“i mean  _here_ —in this place.” 

“i woke up here,” she said, concentrating on the hands she had coiled up in her lap. “they said they found me unconscious in a ruined building with others like me—outside a maze, apparently. i don’t know why i was there. i can’t remember anything before waking up.” 

louis’ eyes widened. was teresa in one of the rooms the gladers passed through after escaping the maze? he tried to think back, recall any of the bodies on the floor that could’ve been her, but he hadn’t been paying attention to their faces, had only seen the red stains on their coats and pushed forward. “me and my friends," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "i think we were the others.” 

“they said we were being sacrificed."

louis grimaced. “ava paige,” he explained to her. “she runs an organisation called WICKED—she was the one experimenting on us.” 

teresa’s hands stilled. “experimenting?” 

“the maze,” he said quietly. “was a simulation, i guess, to study our brain activity—except, it wasn’t really a simulation. so many of us died.” 

that sadness in her eyes flared up again. louis couldn’t place it, but it looked so much like guilt that he remained quiet for a little while, unsure of what to make of it. “what is this place?” she whispered moments later. 

louis shook his head earnestly. “i don’t know,” he said. he looked towards the door once more when he heard voices outside it. “that’s what i’m trying to figure out.” 

 

-

 

 

“louis.” someone was pushing at his shoulder. “ _louis_ ,” the same voice repeated urgently, shoving at him harshly now. 

louis blinked, eyes sluggishly settling on the figure crouched over him. he blinked again, startling. “thomas?” 

“quiet,” thomas warned, motioning towards the door where the guard remained flanking it. his eyes were wild “get up.” 

louis sat up, quickly looking over to teresa’s bed. it was empty. he furrowed his brows and turned back to thomas, eyes settling on the vent above him, now open. “what the hell is happening?” 

“i found bodies, louis,” he whispered, eyes alight with anger. “kids like us—immunes—they had them strung up, connected to wires and tubes, extracting some type of serum. they were  _barely_  alive. we never escaped.” thomas looked pained, then, sadness creeping in beside the rage. “janson reports to ava. this is still WICKED.  _we never escaped_ ,” he repeated hoarsely. "we need to leave.  _now_.”

louis stood up at once, body heavy. he turned towards the drip attached to him, ripping it off. he ignored the pain shooting up his arm as he followed thomas to the vents. “where are the others?” 

thomas lifted himself up effortlessly. “in the room,” he answered, reaching back to hold out a hand to louis. "we need to get to them quickly."

“wait,” louis said. “there was a girl in here with me, teresa—“ 

thomas stilled. “the girl in my memories—“ he scanned the room. "louis, where is she?” 

louis rose up to grab thomas’ hand, climbing in, his body crying out painfully. “i don’t know,” he said, looking back. “we were in here together when crawford—our doctor—came in and inserted something in to my drip. it must have been an anaesthetic—i fell asleep.” 

thomas crawled forward, louis following behind groggily. every muscle in his body was begging him to stop and louis was left to wonder just what crawford had injected in to his system. the two carried on, louis at a much slower pace, though thomas would stop every now and then to check up on him, brows furrowed in concern. louis knew his heaving was as loud as it sounded in his ears, most of his energy going in to keeping his winces at bay. he almost sent up a prayer when thomas came to a stop, pushing against the vent lid. 

“we’re here,” he said unnecessarily, crawling through and disappearing. his hand shot out moments later to heave louis up—and the second louis had his feet planted on the floor, his face was stuffed in to someone’s chest, harry breathing a sigh of relief against the top of his head. 

“hello to you, too,” he said breathlessly, voice muffled against harry’s top. 

harry squeezed him closer before letting go, his hands still gripping louis’ shoulders, face solemn. he looked him up and down, eyes narrowing in on the bruise that had formed where the drip had been. “are you okay?” 

louis wanted to joke to ease the seriousness of harry’s face, but the worried gleam in his eye made him swallow it down, giving him a small smile. “i’m fine,” he said instead. when harry continued to stare unrelentingly, he squeezed his hand. “seriously.” 

“of course you’re fine,” minho said, waving harry off. “told the shank you would be."

“we need to go,” thomas said tightly, back stiff as he yanked off the bedsheets on the bed beside him, hastily making his way to the door where he began tying it around the handle. 

louis scanned the room, making note of every familiar face, ensuring all the gladers were there. his eyes zeroed in on the boy stood towards the back, decked in a stripy jumper, as thomas moved around the room frantically, dragging a mattress to stand against the door. “who’s that?” louis asked harry, motioning towards the boy. 

“i’ll explain later,” harry murmured as thomas began ordering the gladers through the vents, the boy going through first. one by one they piled in, louis taking a deep breath before he pushed himself in again—and just as thomas crawled through, the last of the gladers to do so, the sound of the door being pounded against echoed down to them. they all crawled faster. 

 

-

 

“come on, come on, come on,” thomas said when they’d all exited the vents. the sign on the closest wall declared the space ‘pit 12’. from the outside, louis had seen how large this place was. he hoped thomas knew where he was going; two days in here could not have been enough to scope every exit, never mind how to get to them—and that didn’t even take in to account the guards louis knew they were going to face soon, all armed.  “okay, let’s go, let’s go.” 

“you guys go ahead,” said the boy—aris, louis had learnt—one leg in the vents. “there’s something i need to do.” 

thomas jogged back to him, every bone on his body tight and on edge. “what are you talking about?” 

louis kept glancing behind him. he knew this place had cameras—it was WICKED, of course they would be watching them—and being where they were, out in the open, made the chances of them getting caught increase with every second they wasted. 

“trust me, it’s important. you guys want to get out of here, right?” when thomas kept quiet, aris ducked in. “just go.” 

“i’ll go with him,” winston said, following behind.

thomas nodded then. “alright, winston,” he said, already heading off in the other direction. to the rest of the gladers, he motioned them forward. “go, go, go."

minho, trailing beside thomas, said, “are you sure we can trust this kid?” 

thomas didn’t even pause to consider. “you don’t want to know where we’d be without him.” 

louis glanced sideways at harry—and once again was saved from sprawling in to newt’s back as harry grabbed his arm to still him. the group had stopped abruptly, doctor crawford standing before them. she took one look at thomas, panting with his eyes wide, then at louis towards the back. her own eyes widened and she took a step away from them. “what are you kids doing out?” she asked, but judging by the look on her face louis knew she’d figured it out—and if she hadn’t, the alarm that blared seconds later was all the answer she needed. thomas leaped in to action before crawford could run or make any other move. he came up behind her, suspending her arms. “let go!” she demanded, tugging to free herself, but minho rushed forward, assisting. 

“what do we do with her?” newt asked.

thomas looked around as if searching for an answer but louis spoke up, stepping forward. “where is teresa?” 

doctor crawford let out a snort that was so at odds with her usual composure. “you won’t be able to reach her.” 

thomas tightened his hold, voice menacing. “answer the question.”

“in the med wing,” crawford finally said, smirking. “good luck trying to find her.” 

louis smiled sweetly, taking another step forward. “we don’t need luck—we just need you.” 

 

-

 

as they rounded yet another corner, louis’ fears finally came to fruition. a guard stood at the other end, gun poised—but, louis realised, it was only one. “freeze!” he yelled, shooting when thomas drew the group back the way they'd came. more shots fired, missing louis’ head by inches. “stay where you are!” 

the gladers ran forward, ducking. “why are they shooting at us?” fry asked incredulously. 

minho had come to a stop. all the guard needed to do was round the corner and then he’d be on them, minho directly in his line of sight. “minho!” thomas called out. “what the hell are you doing?  _minho_!” but minho was already dashing forward, screaming out as he kneed the guard, who’d just run right in to his path, unaware in the chest. the guard hit the wall behind roughly, the impact knocking him out cold. 

the gladers spurred to them, newt huffing out an applauding breath as he looked down at the unconscious guard. “shit, minho.” 

thomas was reaching down. he lifted the gun, inspecting it. “okay.” he grabbed crawford again, keeping it pointed at her back. “let’s go.” 

"wait." it was minho; he was shaking his head. "why are we even doing this?"

louis paused in his step, alongside thomas, brows furrowed. "doing what?" 

"this," minho said, gesturing around him vaguely. "going for the girl — whoever she is. we're wasting time." 

louis went to open his mouth but found he didn't know what to say. none of the others knew teresa—and if he was being honest, neither did he; they'd had only one conversation—but it was  enough. louis could tell teresa knew more than she let on. he hadn't pressed it, had only stared in to her guilt-stricken eyes and seen his own distorted reflection; coming to realise that he had been the one that aided WICKED—ava, janson,  _all of them_ —in destroying his friends lives, ripping away others.  _he_  could've very well been the one that shoved teresa in to janson's cruel hands in the first place—so he had to get her, had to help her. as many immunes as he could, as many kids as he could—in the hopes that the guilt that throbbed relentlessly in his chest would ease up even slightly.

minho was waiting for an answer. louis didn't know what to say— luckily for him, thomas answered, "whatever they wanted from louis, they wanted from her, too. i have a feeling she's more important than we know." 

newt raised a solitary eyebrow. "we're risking our lives over a feeling?" 

thomas glared at him, already walking off. "i was right before, wasn't i?" he left the question to hang in the air. minho let out a sigh after sharing a glance with newt, the two of them apparently appeased enough to carry on forward. 

crawford led them to the med wing without saying a word. the gladers stood behind as she pushed open the door slowly. “doctor crawford,” came a pleased voice from inside, the owner of it quickly lifting his hands up in surrender as louis and the rest of them pushed in behind her, thomas holding the gun up at them. 

“where is she?” louis demanded, looking at all the familiar faces of the day before, all the doctors and nurses that had fiddled with needles and injections, subjecting his body to treatments he was no longer sure were helpful. “where is she?” he asked again, louder, when nobody answered, thomas moving to step up beside him, the gun in his hands sending the message he didn’t voice. 

still, they kept quiet. louis watched as a pair of eyes darted to the side. he followed their gaze to a curtain, drawn off from the rest of the room. he instantly shot forward, shoving it to the side to reveal teresa, lying down with more tubes coming out of her than louis had had. he swore silently under his breath, putting tentative hands on her shoulder. “teresa.” she blinked once, twice. her brows furrowed when her gaze focused on louis. “what did they do to you?” 

“louis,” she whispered. 

“give me your hands!” newt was shouting in the background. 

louis helped her up, just as crawford’s voice rang out, “you’re never going to get away with this.” 

teresa looked behind him, at the attendents on the floor. “what’s going on?” 

“we need to leave right now,” he explained weakly, motioning for her to stand. “remember what we spoke about? this is still WICKED. we need to go— _right now_ , come on.” 

“guys!” harry warned, panic in his voice. he was staring out through the gap in the door. “they’re coming. where do we go?”

“harry, move!” newt barely gave harry enough time to jump out of the way, upturning the metal table closest to him. with the assistance of fry beside him they pushed it in front of the door, blocking janson’s path in. 

“get back!” thomas was shouting, herding the boys behind him. the guards were trying to get in, each shove against the door loosening the flimsy barrier they’d created. “get back!” he turned to louis. “come on, we gotta get out of here!” 

“where do we go?” harry asked again, whipping his head around frantically for any other exit. there wasn’t one. 

thomas passed the gun off to minho, leaping forward to grab the chair beside the bed. he lifted it callously, slamming it against the window beside them. it was made of durable material, and the chair only bounced off of it. “newt, help me!” he ordered, going in to smash the window again, newt picking up another chair and joining, the bangs ringing out as if in chorus with the guards at the door relentlessly pushing against it. it took another two smashes from the both of them but eventually the glass gave way, shattering, and thomas used the chair to fling away the stubborn pieces still clinging to the edges. “go, go, go!” he yelled, just as one of the guards began attempting to squeeze their way in through the gap. 

“come on, come on, come on!” minho was yelling. thomas jumped over first, louis bringing a cloth forward to place over the ledge. he jumped through next—and to his surprise, teresa didn’t hesitate or ask any questions as thomas held out a hand to help her over after; she merely glanced at him, eyes wide, before joining louis on the other side, the rest of the gladers following suit. 

“hurry!” minho yelled, as the tell-tale bang of janson and the guards finally prying the door open sounded out. “thomas!” minho chucked the gun over and in to thomas’ awaiting hands, the last of the gladers to jump over. 

“stay behind me,” thomas instructed the rest of the group and louis’ beating heart managed to slow down to something slightly more bearable when harry reached out and grabbed a hold of his hand. the pain in louis’ arm had subsided to a dull throb but louis couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest that spread throughout him, a foreign weight that tinged the scenes unfolding before him, leaving him panting and foggy. he fought through the arising nausea—and maybe harry knew that louis was on the very edge of collapsing and maybe not, but he squeezed louis’ hand tightly and acted as the anchor he very much needed. louis found focusing on their joint palms made it easier to fight whatever was clouding his system, allowing him to follow along upright as thomas led them to what louis hoped was the exit.

a masked man stood just outside the door thomas led them through. his eyes widened, but thomas pulled the trigger on the gun before the man could, the spasms of electricity spurring through him as he dropped to the floor. thomas stared down at the gun in shock before he started forward again, hailing the group onwards. “ _come on_.” louis couldn’t help but spare the man another glance, still twitching where he lay on the floor—the guards had been more than willing to do the same to them. louis was only just beginning to understand the lengths WICKED would go to to keep them confined.

they rounded another corner. “there it is!” louis almost passed out with relief. he allowed his body to slow in to a jog, finding purchase on the nearest wall when thomas came to a stop, realising, as the gladers soon did—much to all their horror—that the alarm had done much more than shut doors. "goddamn it, come on!” the pass in thomas’ hand was useless agains the lockdown, the word ‘DENIED’ blaring out at them in red. “ _come on_!”

“thomas,” came janson’s voice, smothered with false pleasantries. he smiled at the group frostily, advancing slowly, like a lion who knew it had its prey trapped. harry stood in front of louis protectively, just as thomas discarded the keycard angrily, stalking forward with his gun raised high. janson, still approaching, held his hands up. 

“open this door, janson!” 

“you really don’t want me to—“ 

thomas roared, “ _open the damn door!_ ” 

“listen to me!” janson replied with equal ferocity. “i’m  _trying_  to save your life—the maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn’t last  _one day_  out in the scorch.” he was getting closer, flanked by armed guards behind him. “if the elements don’t kill you, the cranks will. thomas—you have to believe me.” when he was little more than five feet away from thomas, he came to a stop. “i only want what’s best for you.” louis felt his blood surge, disgust painted across his features—and for a second, he was transported back. a memory; him and janson, louis’ hands cuffed to the table.  _it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you don’t do this to save humanity—you do this to save yourself_. those had been louis’ words. he hadn’t trusted janson from the start—and with good reason, too; he’d  _known_  janson—known his true motives. he had no doubt thomas was figuring out the same thing as well. 

“yeah, let me guess,” he said icily. “WICKED is good?” 

janson’s hands dropped. he lost his patience, eyes burning with contempt. “you’re not getting through that door, thomas.” and just then, as if in protest to janson’s words, the door beeped behind them. louis turned, the keypad flashing green. the door rose at once, aris standing behind it with a triumphant smile, winston beside him. 

“hey, guys,” he said, and fry was the first to pass through, calling out for the others to do the same. louis swallowed down a groan at the thought of having to move again. harry released his hand to place louis’ arm around his shoulder instead, allowing louis to rest most of his weight against him—how he knew louis needed the support, he had no clue, but he was insanely grateful for it. 

newt waited at the door, looking back. “thomas, come on! let’s go.” thomas was still stood in the same position, turning back to janson. he scattered shots, janson recoiling, the guards with shields coming to stand in front. he continued firing, all the while backing away, until he stopped, the gun empty. he chucked it away, spinning around and dashing for the group. 

louis felt his heart leap out of his chest as janson’s order of, “shut the main vault door!” was carried out, the heavy stone door beginning to descend. the gladers were all shouting encouragements, newt stood the closest, shouting the loudest. louis wanted to join them but he felt his throat close up, his vision swimming. his head lolled to the side, and he just about made out thomas’ figure sliding under and across, the door slamming in to the floor behind him no more than a second after he did so. 

louis flinched back when sparks fizzled out to his right, aris having ran at the keypad and slamming in to it with whatever he was gripping in his hand. janson and the guards remained trapped on the other side, his enraged snarl bringing a smile to louis’ face. winston quickly reached out and grabbed a gun off of the body lying in front of him. thomas spared janson one final glance, raising his fingers obscenely to flip him off.

“come on,” minho was urging him. 

janson bared his teeth, hands slamming against the glass pane. “you little shit!” came his muffled voice. 

harry was already leading them away. louis knew they wouldn’t get far like this, what with his weight slowing the both of them down. thomas didn’t spare a thought, grabbing on to louis’ other arm and draping it over his own shoulder. with the added strength, the three managed to catch up with the rest of the gladers, teresa looking back at louis with worried eyes. he tried to force a smile on to his face but the remainder of his energy was being used in getting his feet to move forward and he was sure the smile become more of a grimace.

“keep moving!” the gladers—and teresa—were doing the closest they could get to running without leaving louis behind. they passed through the vast entrance they’d been in when they first arrived, the alarm ringing even louder. there was nobody around to stop them—janson had called everyone to him, leaving the entrance bare. louis took it for the blessing it was, praying for one more as he felt the tips of his consciousness begin to slip out of his grip.  _what_  had they given him? 

the huge door with the innumerable locks came in to view. louis’ first thought of it being there to keep them in had been right, then. he wanted to laugh at it all; at how predictable WICKED had been, how easily thomas had been able to see through the illusion they painted. thomas stepped forward, minho taking his place at louis’ side. he tugged on the red lever in front of him, just as louis felt his legs give out. if harry’s arm hadn't been clinging to his waist he surely would’ve dropped to the floor, taking harry and minho down with him. he heard the main doors spring open, heard thomas say something far off, harry calling out his name—but louis felt so  _tired_. he just needed to close his eyes for a bit. he tried to tell harry this, but he had no control over his tongue, or any part of him—his body going limp as darkness crept in and he was out for the count. 

 

-

 

_**thomas**_  

WICKED. this was still WICKED. thomas’ stomach was turning—it had been ever since he’d found that out; ever since he’d seen the dozens of bodies hung up, an uncountable amount of wires and tubes attached to them, draining them for all they had. thomas could still feel the rage that had taken over him as he hid behind that column; could still feel the way his fists shook with an anger that threatened to devour him. he didn’t know how he hadn’t moved then; didn’t know how he’d managed to control himself when every bone in his body screamed for him to step out, to strangle janson where he stood, right there in front of ava paige; a single message in his hate-filled eyes as he stared at her:  _you’re next_. maybe it was aris beside him, maybe it was his friends left trapped back in their room, louis somewhere else—but thomas didn’t make a move, only forced himself to take slow, quiet breaths as he devoured every piece of information he could get. 

and now they had escaped—or were going to, when louis passed out. 

newt was cursing, harry and minho struggling to keep louis upright. thomas’ heart was pounding— _too long_ , they were taking too long. janson would be on them soon, no doubt having already sent orders to converge on the very spot the gladers—and teresa—stood. thomas shoved down his worry, turning around and scanning the vast expanse of sand that lay before them. they had to move,  _now_. 

he glanced back at louis’ frail, limp body. “minho, harry—can you keep him up?” minho gave a swift nod, harry gritting his teeth and doing the same. “alright—winston, fry, keep behind them. the second one of them falters you step in and take their place—no matter what, we have to keep moving.” winston and fry nodded in unison and thomas huffed out a quick, tense breath. “follow me,” he ordered, taking a step out of the building and on to the sand. he didn’t look back as he jogged out, calling out a hurried, " _let’s go_.” 

thomas didn’t let himself think of the 'cranks' that had run for the group when they’d first landed as he broke off into a light run. he didn’t let himself think about louis, passed out for dangerous reasons he knew could only be linked to WICKED, because louis was  _alive_  and  _breathing_ —and that was all that mattered. he swallowed down any fear and trepidation as the endless night sky spread out before him, focusing solely on getting them as far away from janson as possible—everything else could be dealt with later. 

they’d escaped—and thomas had no intention of going back. 

with that one thought in mind, thomas urged the group to carry on faster. the wind blew the sand with a ferocity only found accompanied by the night breeze. thomas couldn’t shield his eyes against the onslaught of it, his hands being used to scamper up the mountainous grafts. each step he called for the gladers to follow in his tracks, his voice shielded from the guards now spilling out of the building by the wind—every single one of them were equipped with flashlights, moving at a pace much quicker than the gladers. thomas didn’t let the worry settle in—they’d had a head start, as well as the advantage of night on their side. and then he paused, his breath catching in his throat. bikes—of course they had bikes. “go, go!” thomas yelled, his heart pounding so loud he thought janson could hear it.

“we’ll lose them in the storm!” thomas said, heading further in to the roaring winds. “wait!” he ordered, “down!” thomas flattened himself to the sand, praying the rest of the group did so in time as lights went flashing in their direction. he waited, his heart in his throat, the sounds of the bikes getting closer, until—they passed right by them, the men following suit. “okay.” thomas rose slowly, keeping down. “go, go, go. stay low,  _stay low_!” 

the group backed away, turning and running in to a sprint when they were a safe distance away. thomas kept to the back, where harry and minho were just barely holding louis up. he cursed, taking over harry’s position, ordering an unwavering, “ _go_!” when harry went to protest. they were stumbling down a sand hill, thomas tightening his hold on louis. 

“i think we lost them,” someone said, thomas couldn’t tell who. 

“watch out!” it was harry, almost having knocked in to fry in front of him who’d come to a stop beside a—thomas squinted. he didn’t know what it was. 

teresa, situated at the front of the group, led them along the structure of glass panes, stopping when she reached one that had been shattered. “come on!” she yelled, disappearing inside a moment later, deaf to thomas’ warning. the gladers were shouting out in panic, until teresa called out a, “get down here!” 

thomas, already struggling with louis’ weight, urged them forward. one by one the gladers slipped through. the three of them wouldn’t fit through at once, so he motioned for minho to go first, thomas checking over his shoulder—no sign of flashlights or quad bikes—before following suit. “shit!” he swore, almost losing his footing and falling the descent down. “fry, winston.” the two of them turned at once, wordlessly moving forward to take louis out of thomas and minho’s hands. 

minho let out a sigh of relief, shrugging his bag off of his shoulder. thomas didn’t even know where he’d gotten it from, was only insanely thankful when minho produced a flashlight, lighting up the surrounding area. thomas spotted broken pieces of furniture dotted here and there, the place nothing but a home to debris and sand—mostly everything was covered in the latter. minho was still roving the flashlight around. “where the hell are we?”  

“we gotta go,” was thomas’ only answer, not thinking twice as he moved to walk in deeper. 

“wait—“ teresa stood the furthest away, looking back at the way they’d come in. her eyes passed nervously over louis, still unconscious in fry and winston’s arms, before settling on thomas, icy blue piercing through him. “what’s happening? tell me what’s going on.” 

thomas paused, unsure of what to say. she was owed an explanation, that much was obvious. they’d all bursted in to her room, louis uprooting her without much information—and now she found herself surrounded by people she didn’t know—or didn’t remember. thomas had been desperate to speak to her the moment he found out she was here but he figured now, in front of everyone, wasn’t the time to do so—at least not for what he really wanted to speak to her about.

he took a hesitant step towards her. “what do you know?” 

“louis said this was WICKED,” she supplied. 

thomas nodded. “he was right—it is. they lied to us, we never escaped. me and aris—“ thomas gave a brief nod towards aris, who raised his hand awkwardly. “—we found bodies—too many to count.”

she tilted her head calculatingly. “what do you mean?” her eyes were still boring through him relentlessly—he almost looked away. “dead bodies?” 

“no,” he said softly, the words in stark contrast to his tone. “but they weren’t alive, either. they had them strung up, tubes coming out of them. they were being—“ thomas almost choked on the memory. “—they were being  _drained_. there’s something inside of us that WICKED wants—something in our blood—so we have to get as far away from them as possible.” 

“okay,” newt said in to the quiet that settled, drawing thomas’ eyes away from teresa’s. “so what’s the plan?” he was looking at thomas. “you do have a plan, right?” when thomas remained standing still, his face frowning helplessly, newt breathed out incredulously. “we followed you out here, thomas—and now you’re saying you have  _no idea_  where we’re going and what we’re doing?” thomas reigned in his flinch at newt’s tone. he swallowed against the hurt rising, knowing newt was entitled to his frustration—hell, he was frustrated, too. no part of this situation was ideal. 

thomas went to voice that exact point, when aris spoke up, “wait.” he looked between the group. “janson said something about people hiding in the mountains—some kind of resistance, or army.” 

“the right arm,” thomas supplied, the conversation between janson and ava coming back to him.  _have you caught the right arm? they’re still out there, and they’ve already hit two of our instillations. we can’t afford another loss—not now, when i’m so close to a cure_ , ava had said. “if they’re really against WICKED,” thomas continued, hope flaring in his chest. “maybe they can help us.” 

newt looked between thomas and aris as if they’d both simultaneously grown a second head. “people,” he said slowly, raising his eyebrows. “in the mountains.  _mountain people_ —that’s your plan?” 

thomas stared at him, willing him to agree, to trust him. “it’s the only chance we have,” he said quietly. 

minho cut through the tense silence. “hey, guys.” thomas was the first to look away, turning to where minho was crouched over something. “check this out.” he could feel newt’s eyes still on him, and willed himself to ignore it as he walked towards minho. he was pointing the flashlight downwards, tilting it forwards when the group crowded around him. 

“someone’s been down here,” thomas muttered, eyes trailing the flashlight where a single, recent set of footsteps led further in. 

 

-

 

thomas and minho were peeking in to the only room that was closed off. it was filled with large containers that might have once housed water but were now empty, bottles scattered everywhere and clothes strewn around. it became clear pretty quickly that the building had once been hospitable—but no longer. “come on,” minho said, passing the flashlight back in to aris’ hands. “open it up.” 

thomas reached down to lift the metal shutter that separated them from the room, glad it held up once they’d done so. the group dispersed, everyone taking an interest in something different. thomas watched as harry fiddled around with a lantern of sorts, holding it up when he managed to turn it on. newt had drifted off to the right, blowing dust off of a surface, coughing when it rose up in to his face. he picked up  whatever was on top of it, a mirror of the item teresa had in her own palm, clicking the button on the back and recoiling when a blast of light flashed in to her eyes. minho was beside him, having lifted up a jacket that had been left carelessly. harry inspected the material. “it looks like people lived here,” he said, squatting to examine the other piles of clothes.

“and where are they now?” newt voiced thomas’ own thoughts, staring down at the clothes cautiously. 

thomas spotted a mattress to his left and called for fry and winston to lay louis down. harry knelt beside louis at once, placing the lantern down beside his head. in the light, louis looked even worse than thomas remembered. his skin was tinged an unhealthy white, blood-red veins shooting across his eyelids. thomas felt harry’s worry, his own shooting down his spine as he kept back, allowing harry to do whatever medical checks he deemed necessary. 

“teresa,” thomas said quietly, the brunette turning to him at once. “do you have any clue what they gave to him?” 

teresa shook her head sharply. “they never told us what they were administering—just that we needed it.” 

“louis,” harry was whispering, lightly patting his face. nothing—not a single movement. “louis,” harry repeated louder, tapping his cheek with increased force.

thomas turned to his right, pointing at the backpack minho had slung across his back. “do you have any water in there?” 

minho nodded, reaching back to unzip the bag, pulling out a small metal container. when thomas sent him a quizzical glance, he merely shrugged. “grabbed it from one of the shanks in the med room.” newt huffed a laugh at that as thomas walked forward, opening the flask. he crouched over louis, sending a silent prayer it would work as he dumped the contents of the flask directly onto louis’ face. 

again, nothing. seconds ticked by and then—spluttering. louis coughed, harry ducking out of the way just in time for louis to shoot up, breathing deeply. “whoa, whoa,” harry murmured comfortingly, placing a hand on louis’ shoulder to calm him. “just breathe.” 

louis did exactly that, his eyes scrunched shut as he fought against whatever was clawing at him, whatever WICKED did to weaken him so. “louis,” thomas said gently. 

“tom?” louis’ voice came out weak and scratchy. he cleared his throat, and thomas tried not to think too much on the nickname he hadn’t heard the boy use before. louis looked around, eyes wide. he faced harry. “where are we?” 

harry glanced at thomas, giving him leave to explain. “you passed out just as we reached the doors,” thomas said, unsure how much louis remembered. "we managed to get the hell out of dodge—found this place on the way. can you stand?” 

louis let a shaky, “yes,” and pushed himself up on to his knees. no one mentioned how that one act alone took longer than it should’ve, louis bracing himself against his knees, breathing deeply for a couple of seconds. he adamantly shooed harry and thomas’ hands away, unsteadily rising, a subtle hand against the wall that they all saw—but louis was standing. he was awake, talking, and the relief painted across harry’s face was no doubt echoed on thomas’. 

thomas turned to the blue jacket he’d seen upon entering. “let’s pack some of this stuff up,” he said, picking it up and fanning it out to rid it of any dust and sand before shrugging it on. “anything you think you might need. we’ll split up, see what else we can find.” he turned to louis at that, silently asking him the question he already knew the answer to, considering how stubborn louis was—and, as he expected, louis shook his head defiantly, stepping away from the wall smoothy; and though thomas saw his shaking fists he didn’t say a word, only nodded. “we meet back here.” 

the group nodded their understanding, and thomas repeated the gesture, turning to walk out of the room only to be stopped by newt’s, “wait.” he chucked one of the small flashlights to thomas, who caught it effortlessly. “ _now_  let’s go."

-

 

thomas had gone off with minho. he could tell newt had been unhappy with the pairing—thomas saw the frown on his face as he had jogged off, newt quickly attempting to school his features into something more nonchalant as he stayed behind with harry and louis instead. he didn’t know how far they’d wondered off. the room they were currently in had skylights dotted around and less sand covering the surfaces; which were nothing more than tables cluttered with discarded tidbits, wires wrapping around overhead with lightbulbs. not for the first time thomas found himself wondering who had inhabited this place. 

they were pushing forward soundlessly when minho spoke, “thomas?”

thomas flashed his torch against one of the tables, hoping to find something of use. “yeah?” nothing.

“all those kids that were left behind back there,” minho continued, sombre. “i don’t want to end up like that.  _hey_ ,” he said fiercely a moment later. thomas paused at the tone, lifting his head up to face minho’s intense gaze. “do you hear me?”

thomas’ heart beat painfully. “yeah,” he murmured. “i hear you.” 

“good.” minho gave him a small smile then and carried on with his search. “now, what am i looking for out here?” 

thomas gave a short huff. even though it was clear there weren’t any—at least here, “signs of life.” he moved away, shining his torch ahead of him. “people, survivors— _anyone_  who can help us.” 

minho had frozen when thomas finally turned around to him. “does he count?” his flashlight was pointed directly ahead of him, to the centre of the room where a lone body sat. it was still in a way that meant it was no more alive than the rest of the building, but thomas inched closer cautiously all the same. the dead man was perched on a chair; thomas didn’t know what to make of him. it almost seemed he’d had a peaceful death, his hands slack at his side—but the bag knotted over his head hinted otherwise. 

“shit,” minho said, hand reaching out to flick the switch on the lamp beside the man. not surprisingly, it didn’t turn on, but minho’s eyes widened all the same. “they had power.” 

at that, thomas used his light to follow the trail of the lamp’s cable. minho mimicked his actions, their flashlights revealing the box that sat on the table before them. it had countless wires bleeding out of it, and thomas stepped forward, tracing them to its source. the wires led them to a set of double doors. neither glader hesitated as they pushed through, the metal hinges crying out its abandonment with a resounding screech. 

the only sound that could be heard were the heavy footfalls of both gladers as they did their best to side step all that littered the floor. the wires continued on straight ahead, steering the both of them to a dead end in the form of a metal fence. it covered the entire length of the room from one side to the other, flowers, toys and pieces of cloth all pinned up against it. it seemed to be a memoir of all those who had once walked where the gladers now did, their memory remaining in everything they’d left behind. thomas still didn’t understand what had caused the people to leave in the first place—whether this place had become inhospitable in their absence or was the reason for it. 

“this looks promising,” thomas heard minho say, too caught up in the bed he could now see on the other side of the fence. questions spiralled through his head, and he was distantly aware of minho fiddling with something. 

at the sound of a click reverberating through the room, thomas whipped his head around, wide eyes on minho who had found the power box. “hey, minho— _wait_ ,” he warned—but too late. 

the irrefutable sounds of electricity began to thrum throughout the room, lighting the bulbs strung overheard, as well as light panes all around. slowly, the room lit up, and thomas didn’t need to wonder if the same was happening all over; he could still hear the telling click pound out, becoming more distant the further it travelled. 

thomas knew instantly this couldn’t be good—and was proven right when minho’s smile faded into a look of alarm, staring directly over thomas’ shoulder. “thomas, watch out!” thomas ducked forward, narrowly missing the fingers that futilely reached out to grab him, restricted by the fence between them. it was a little girl—or remnants of one. her face was twisted and inhuman, black veins covering most of it—including the spots where her eyes should’ve been. her blonde hair was in disarray as she continued to throw herself against the fence, attempting to get past it. “back, back,” minho barked, grabbing on to thomas’ arm. “jesus—her  _eyes_.” 

something clanged behind them. thomas spun instantly, his flashlight causing the man— _crank_ —before them to screech furiously. its body spasmed uncontrollably as it headed straight for them. thomas stumbled back, just as minho reached down and retrieved a metal plank. “stay back!” he warned, before he swung, slamming the plank across its head. it fell to the floor, but it was still moving, thomas and minho pushing away from it. 

more screeches—thomas had lost his flashlight. minho directed his ahead where more of the cranks were rushing towards them. “gotta move, gotta move— _go_!” he shoved minho in the other direction, the two of them sprinting out of the room. they reached the double doors, slamming it shut just in time for bodies to pile against it on the opposite side. thomas and minho both stood in front, straining against the weight. 

minho said something; thomas couldn’t hear him over the cacophony. “ _what_?” minho didn't repeat himself. he shot forward, thomas almost losing control of the doors, his footing shifting. “ _minho_! what are you doing?” he yelled as minho disappeared behind the metal shelf to the left of him. 

“watch out!” he called, just in time for thomas to stumble back as the shelf fell, blocking the door and the cranks on the other side. thomas breathed out deeply—but it wasn’t over. from behind, more screeches sounded, this time coming from all around, as if the light had summoned them—and thomas knew it very well had. 

“go, go, go, go!” thomas didn’t know where they were running to, just hoped it was in the same direction as they’d first come, far away enough to keep the cranks off their trail. an escalator came in to view. thomas pushed himself to go faster, reaching the steps and, without thinking twice, dashing up them. minho ran parallel to him, the two of them swearing under their breath as the sounds of the cranks followed them up. 

they rounded the corner. flashlights bobbed in to view, as well as the familiar heads of the rest of their group. thomas didn’t have any time to feel relieved. “go!” he was yelling, the cranks right behind them. “ _hey_! go!” thomas saw the moment the panic registered on newt’s face. he saw newt curse, too far away to hear it, watching as newt spurred the rest of the group forward. 

“get out of here!” 

“ _come on_!” 

thomas didn’t pause, but turned, briefly, to find the cranks still hot on their tracks. another set of escalators came in to view. “thomas! minho!” winston shrieked. "what are those things?” 

“just keep going!” thomas shot back, heralding the group left once they’d reached the top. a metre in he halted, chest heaving and eyes wide. “shit!” another crank was approaching, this one in front of them. they were trapped. 

“aris, no!” winston cried, as aris headed straight for the crank. thomas had no clue when or where he’d managed to grab a bat, but he was insanely thankful for it as aris swung against the crank, knocking it out of their way. it split through the group as it fell, thomas and teresa trapped against an escalator behind them. 

“go!” thomas yelled at the others. “go around!  _teresa_!” she was fighting off the crank that had dropped at her feet, slamming a stick against it as another jumped out in front of thomas. he barely had enough time to think, or shoot a warning—he lifted his leg up and kicked the crank down, teresa ducking out of the way as it went flying past her head. thomas spun to continue running up. “come on, come on!” 

they fell in to step with the others. “where are we going to go?” louis was asking, the question heavy with strain and exhaustion. thomas willed himself to keep all his attention forward—louis would be  _fine,_  he told himself—harry was with him. 

“we gotta find a way out of here!” fry said. 

thomas simply motioned them onward crazily. “ _go_!” 

a smash sounded out and suddenly newt wasn’t running alongside him anymore. thomas stopped abruptly, almost landing flat on his face as charged back. “ _newt_!” the crank that had blasted through the glass now lay on top of him, and newt was barely keeping him off. thomas kicked out, sending the crank flying through the glass barrier behind it. he hauled newt to his feet, his chest pounding painfully. he ignored the ridiculous craving to hold newt in his arms and make sure he was okay, instead kept an arm around him as he stood in front defensively, the cranks gaining on them. 

thomas briefly registered minho asking after newt, barely acknowledged newt’s, “thanks, tommy.” there were too many of them—and they were too close. he spun them around and continued running. 

“through here!” harry had found a narrow passage. thomas once again pushed himself to run faster, ignoring the burn that had spread along his legs. he could only imagine how newt and louis were feeling. “through here, come on!  _let’s go_.”  

there was no exit in sight. thomas prayed they didn’t encounter another crank before them—there would be nowhere else to go. 

“guys, where are going?” newt’s question hung in the air—and then, as if in answer, a door. thomas yanked at the handle, cursing when it held stubbornly. the gladers were shouting their distress, teresa the loudest of all. 

“keep going!” she yelled. thomas abandoned the door, throwing himself against the next one a metre away. 

“it’s a dead end!” minho yelled behind him. 

there were three doors, a wall and a horde of cranks. thomas tried the first of the doors, to no avail. the second gave way slightly, a lock holding it in place. “this one!” he pushed against it harshly, minho and harry joining. 

“i’ll hold them off!” winston said, gun in hand. shots rang out in time with each  _bang!_  as the gladers threw themselves against the door. winston briefly turned back to them. “get that door open!” 

they all stepped back as fry ran straight for it, destroying the lock as the door flew open. thomas commanded everyone through. “ _come on_!” 

winston was the last to step over. he’d barely placed his foot down when he was tackled to the ground, a crank grabbing on to his legs. he was being yanked out, thomas and minho keeping the door from bursting open as the cranks piled on to each other. fry and newt were pulling on winston’s arms with all their remaining strength, winston screaming out in pain as veined hands clawed across his abdomen. he was still crying out when they managed to pull him away, dragging him across the floor to get as far from the horde as they could. 

“go, go, go!” thomas ordered, once again struggling against the pressure. there were no metal shelves this time—their only hope was to hold them off as long as they could. “minho, go!” he yelled. “i’m right behind you.” 

minho pushed forward. “let’s go! let’s go!” 

thomas waited until he was a considerable distance away, then ran after him. the cranks immediately behind the door fell into a pile, others trampling over them. he felt his heart pound in sync with his feet, breaths a tight strain in his chest as he pushed to catch up with the rest of them. they headed in to an area devoid of the light they’d turned on, thomas almost shooting past the group in the dark. hands reached out and dragged him down, under a makeshift cave. newt held him in close, minho’s flashlight blinking off as the group huddled together in the darkness, waiting the cranks out. 

 

-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: suicide. (if you've watched the scorch trials, you'll know what scene it is.) newt replays his depressive thoughts of when he jumped. (disclaimer: i can only attempt to portray newt's thoughts and feelings of that time as accurately as possible—and i hope that i don't offend or upset anyone at my portrayal of it.)

_ **newt** _

newt could feel thomas’ pulse racing from where his hand was still resting against thomas’ wrist. he was very much aware of how he was still holding on to thomas—and was even more aware of the fact that neither he nor thomas had made a move to separate themselves. the rational part of newt’s brain knew he should let go and back away as much as he could in the cramped space, yet the larger—and much less reasonable—part demanded he painstakingly keep his hands locked on tight. newt forced himself to believe it was the exhaustion that let the larger part win. 

the sounds of whatever those _things_ were had become less frequent; their numbers dwindling as they moved further away—still, no glader dared breathed a word. newt thought it wasn’t entirely due to the fear; he was sure the silence that was only broken by sharp exhales was due to the exhaustion creeping in—as well as the realisation that any one of them might not have made it to that spot under the stones. newt very nearly hadn’t—and maybe it was that thought that caused newt’s fingers to tighten where they were clutching on to thomas, thomas’ replying squeeze a reminder that they’d all made it out alive. 

he didn’t know how much time had passed, but slowly, the only sounds that could be heard were the even breaths of the sleeping gladers—that is, most of them. harry and louis were wide awake—a fact newt had scolded louis about, given the state he was in; and of course the reprimand fell on deaf ears. the two were whispering between each other, somehow managing to conceal their murmurings even in the small space. newt did his best to avoid focusing on what was being said, giving them the most privacy one could considering the close proximity. 

thomas had finally moved out of newt’s arms—and newt pointedly _did not_ think about the disappointment that coursed through him after. instead, he shuffled back a little and attempted to make himself as comfortable as he could get, considering they were going to spend the night there. and—he swore under his breath— _of course_ his leg chose that moment to act up. stifling a groan, newt sat back up. he stretched his leg out as much as he could—which, again, wasn’t much considering the space—and leaned forward to massage soothing strokes up and down it. 

from beside him, thomas pushed himself up on to his elbows. “your leg?” he murmured. 

newt turned to him, barely able to make out anything in the dark. he nodded, then, realising thomas couldn’t see either, mumbled a small, “yeah.” 

thomas shifted around until he was leaning beside newt, now fully up. “can i help?” 

newt went to decline, knowing very well there was nothing to be done when his leg throbbed as it was doing now besides waiting it out, but something in thomas’ voice, small and hesitant, caused him to stop. softly, he said, “okay.” 

thomas didn’t make a move for a couple of seconds. newt was almost going to tell him that he didn’t need to bother when suddenly thomas was lightly pushing his hands away and replacing it with his own. newt wasn’t able to stifle his groan this time, completely taken aback by the sparks of pain that shot up his leg, and thomas instantly paused. “i’m sorry,” he rushed out, moving to pull his hands away. 

newt grabbed on to his wrist, clenching his teeth. “no,” he breathed. “it wasn’t you. carry on.” when thomas remained still, he added, “please.” 

thomas didn’t say a word as he took up his previous movements, carefully bringing his hands down to rub circles into newt’s leg. newt thought it was pleasant, if not incredibly useless, and settled back against the stone, briefly letting his eyes close. he’d been so wrapped up in their interaction that he hadn’t realised that the whispering had stopped, harry and louis finally getting some rest. he opened his mouth to tell thomas that he should do the same, the words on the tip of his tongue, when he felt the tiredness of his own body win out, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off, faintly aware of thomas whispering, “goodnight, newt.” 

 

-

 

“hey! hey! _get out of here_!” 

newt woke with a start. it took him a couple of seconds to orientate himself, blinking against the brightness of day. thomas had been the one shouting, he realised, shooing away a bird that had found its way into one of their backpacks. once he was able to process that no one was in any imminent danger, newt sat upright, groaning. he lifted his hands to massage the crick in his neck, admonishing himself for not lying on the floor like the rest of the group had. 

thomas stood, looking around. newt couldn’t see much from his position tucked into the cave, but he could see more than he had last night. the whole place was nothing but ruins and debris, the gladers having found themselves under the ghost of a ceiling. 

“are they gone?” he asked thomas. 

“yeah,” thomas replied, glancing back at him. “i think we’re safe—for now.” he reached down to grab his backpack, slinging it on to his shoulders. “okay, we should get moving. let’s pack it up.” the gladers groaned a chorus of disapproval as thomas said it, half of them still stubbornly attempting to hold on to the sleep thomas was so frustratingly disturbing. “aris, come on. fry, louis— _let’s go_.”

newt would’ve been content to stay put for another couple of hours but he knew it was only logical to keep moving—it was WICKED they were escaping, after all; and those _things_ could return at any moment—so, with much effort, he forced himself to stand—regardless of how much he didn’t want to. 

winston groaned loudly. newt turned to him, watching as fry said, “hey, man,” and tenderly lent down a hand. “you okay?” winston had stained through the make-shift bandage harry had wrapped around him sometime last night. he was breathing heavily as fry helped him up, and newt dispelled any thoughts besides _it’ll heal_ and _he’ll be okay_. he kept himself busy by checking on louis, who narrowed his eyes at newt’s quizzical gaze, clearly not interested in anyone’s support—well, anyone besides _harry_ , who unthinkingly hovered much too close to louis as the group set off. newt snorted. 

they climbed over the debris that littered the surrounding area, newt almost losing his footing once or twice. looking back, it was a miracle that the group hadn’t run face-first into any of the broken stones littering the floor—even more so since they’d entered the area with only a flashlight for guidance. thomas lead them out, directly in to the path of the scorching sun—and newt almost paused in his tracks. the wreckage they’d just left had been the remnants of a building—and in front, around, stretching as far as newt could see, was only more of the same. devastation creeped over every ruined structure that stood before them, and newt remembered ava’s video; remembered the fires burning mercilessly, destroying everything in its path. he had seen what the earth looked like from above, when they were rescued—or _thought_ they were rescued—and taken to janson in the helicopter. there had been nothing but sand and destruction—but looking at it now, truly _walking_ through it; newt finally felt the heaviness of ava’s words settle in. a cure—that’s what WICKED thought they were. 

he couldn’t help but think this world was incurable. 

thomas kept them heading forward. newt didn’t question him; he’d already voiced his displeasure about the mountain people—and regardless, he hadn’t meant it to sound like he was doubting thomas. he had only been worried—about himself, thomas, louis; about every single glader—alongside teresa and aris, two other lives they now were responsible for. without a plan or a destination, it would make it all too easy for WICKED to find them again—and newt had a sinking feeling there would be no playing nice this time if they were caught. 

most buildings had crumpled in on themselves, so the group had no option but to walk straight through the glaring sun with no hope of a reprieve from shade. as was becoming custom, fry asked the question on everyone’s minds, “what the hell happened to this place?” 

“i don’t know,” newt answered, though he had a pretty good guess. “it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long time.” 

“i hope the whole world’s not like this,” aris muttered. 

thomas had trailed towards the back. everyone paused at his words. “woah, woah, woah—hang on, stop.” newt turned, eyes roving over thomas’ brows furrowed in concentration. his eyes lifted to meet newt’s. “do you hear that?” newt stilled, straining to hear anything beyond the light whistling of wind. nothing, and then—an engine. he saw thomas’ eyes widen the moment he made the same connection newt did; _WICKED_. “ _get down_! everybody, hide! hide! _hide_!” 

“get in here!” minho ordered, ducking under a large, upturned slab of rock. newt raced for the coverage, squeezing in beside harry. thomas was the last to join them, shielding himself from sight just as the buzzing of the engine drew nearer. overhead—what looked to be an airborne ship, two helicopters flanking it. newt didn’t have to wonder what they were doing out—he found it hard to believe WICKED often sent people to patrol abandoned areas.

“shit,” he breathed as the vehicles passed them by without stopping; making no sign of having known they were there. 

“they’re never going to stop looking for us, are they?” louis said in to the tense silence that followed, staring at the spot where the helicopters had been. newt knew louis didn’t expect an answer—and he didn’t get one; thomas adamantly stalking off in the direction the vehicles had gone, much to newt’s dismay. 

 

-

 

mountains and mountains of sand. it looked just as it had when they’d stepped off the helicopter—baring the fact that it was now day. newt almost would’ve believed they’d gone full circle and would soon stumble upon janson waiting outside the WICKED base were it not for the ruined buildings behind acting as a constant reminder that they had gotten away. 

“a little further, guys,” thomas encouraged—and newt didn’t understand how he could be so energetic—though he was beyond grateful for it. thomas was inspiring morale, however small, and newt didn’t have it in him to do the same. the sun continued to blaze down in all its glory and newt thought about collapsing right then and there when he finally reached the top only to see more sand, more buildings, and, ultimately, so much more walking. he felt his leg cry out in protest. “those mountains,” thomas said, pointing straight ahead. newt squinted at the vague outlines of curves, then at the distance to them. “that’s gotta be it—that’s where we’re going.” 

“that’s a long way off,” he said with a frown.

“then we better get moving,” minho replied. 

there was no other choice, everyone knew that. so with sighs that were swallowed up by the wind, the group proceeded onward—or were going to, when winston collapsed beside them, falling face-first into the sand. “winston!” thomas was the first to react, running straight for him. newt crowded behind, the rest of the gladers following suit. “hey, winston!” 

winston was gasping, his breaths coming out quick and shallow. he’d somehow paled worryingly since the last time newt had seen him, his lips cracked and bleeding. “winston!” fry called out in horror.

harry was at his side, checking him over. he shook his head, worried eyes latching on to winston’s wound. “he’s hurt pretty bad.” 

“what do we do?” louis asked, looking around helplessly. 

“shit,” thomas whispered, clenching his eyes shut tight as he stood abruptly. newt spared him a glance before turning his attention back to winston, who was still heaving out breaths. 

“winston,” harry tried, carefully placing the back of his hand against winston’s forehead, checking for any signs of a fever. “can you hear me?” 

“it’s okay,” minho said soothingly—and newt found he couldn’t repeat the pleasantries; couldn’t find it in him to lie—not when winston looked so very far from okay. 

“what do we do?” newt repeated louis’ words, now having come to stand next to thomas. 

thomas was looking helplessly off in to the distance. newt followed his gaze, seeing all they still had yet to travel and felt his stomach churn with the knowledge that winston wouldn’t be able to make it—at least, not on foot. he voiced that exact thought, thomas’ eyes narrowing, considering. “guys,” he said, spinning around. "grab any strong sticks you can find, anything we can tie together that won’t break to make a sledge of sorts—we’ll carry him the rest of the way.” newt thought it was better than nothing—not a single thought would be given to leaving winston behind. 

fry, minho and harry set off immediately, retracing their steps to grab thick sticks the group had passed on their way. they returned soon enough, each with a handful, sweat pooling down their faces. minho and thomas made quick work of grabbing loose cloths harry had packed in his bag and tying them around the sticks. somehow aris had mangaged to snag a blanket and they used that as the base, stringing down a sleeping bag at the top to act as a headrest. newt and louis kept beside winston, teresa sitting a little ways further, staring off at the mountains. 

newt fished out a water bottle from his own backpack—having found it discarded back with the clothes and flashlights. he was helping winston sip it, bit by bit, when thomas and minho stood, finally done. 

“alright,” thomas said. "let’s get him up.” newt and louis stood, stepping out of the way as thomas leaned down to place his hands under winston’s arms, harry and minho grabbing a leg each. as swiftly as they could, they transferred winston, who hissed at the movement, into the makeshift sledge. it held, thankfully, and thomas let out a sigh of relief. “okay.” he swiped at his forehead, turning back to the mountains. “let’s go.” 

“mountain people,” newt grumbled under his breath as he followed the group onward. “couldn’t have been sand people, huh?” 

 

-

 

they were under a bent sign post. the wind had been blowing furiously, sand spraying in to their eyes with no mercy. the hoodies and scarves the group had were useless against it, nobody able to keep their eyes open for longer than a couple of seconds at a time. it was becoming more dangerous than necessary, the wind blanketing their path ahead, covering any possible dangers. newt was more than glad when thomas called out for them to find shelter—he'd been seconds away from demanding the same. 

minho was sipping from a flask, fry grimacing as he upturned his boot, a ridiculously large amount of sand spilling out of it. winston lay beside harry, breaths coming out quick and shaky, his eyes shut. aris had brought his knees against his chest and was resting his head on top of them, teresa poking holes into the sand, a frown on her face as she watched winston. 

newt came to sit beside minho, who offered him the flask. “thanks,” he said, giving minho a grateful smile. 

thomas was stood with his back to the group, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stared ahead at the rest of the journey they had yet to make. louis was beside him. 

newt stood, moving to stand as close as he could get without leaving the shade. “how’s it looking?” he called out. 

thomas hesitated. “it’s just a little further,” he replied, and newt took it for what it really meant: it didn’t look to be getting any closer. 

he turned back around, glancing at both harry and minho, eyes dancing with amusement. “well, that’s not very convincing.” 

minho snorted, harry huffing a laugh. he turned back to look towards thomas, who was engaged in conversation with louis. he felt his chest pang slightly—for what reason, he didn’t know; _heatstroke_ is what he settled on. 

silence had settled, thomas and louis too far away for their voices to drift down to where newt stood, and newt basked in it, let his mind wander. he quickly realised what a bad move that had been, his heart clenching painfully when memories of alby, gally, jeff—and all the other gladers they had lost, too many to name—came spiralling in. 

his back was turned on the group. he flinched, ducking unconsciously, when a shot fired out. he spun around, wide eyes landing on winston and teresa—and the gun clutched in winston’s hands. 

“hey!” he yelled, rushing forward to knock the gun out of winston’s grasp. newt could only assume he’d grabbed it from his bag—and whatever the target had been, teresa, who had held his wrist, had caused him to shoot up at the post instead. 

“guys, get down here!” aris yelled from behind as minho and fry raced forward. 

“winston, what are you doing, man?” fry gasped, incredulous. 

“give me that!” minho growled, reaching down and grabbing the gun, moving it out of winston’s outstretched hands. 

“ _what_ is going on?” newt asked, just as thomas arrived, scanning the group as he demanded, “what happened?” 

fry was still staring down at winston in shock. "i dont know,” he stammered, pained. "he just woke up and grabbed the gun. and then he tried to—“ 

“give it back—" winston was pleading, voice breaking off to cough. “ _please_.” 

“winston,” thomas said calmly, leaning over to help him up. “are you okay?” 

winston vomited in reply, the liquid thick and black. newt didn’t know much about fevers or infections, but he could only guess at what was happening, the familiar black liquid filling him with dread. winston collapsed on to his back, breathing heavily. he shakily began lifting his shirt. “it’s—growing,” he choked out, “ _inside_  me.” and newt had to stifle his gasp, the wound on full show. it was much nastier than it had been the night before, stretching to cover the entire expanse of winston’s stomach. black veins burst through the cracked and raw skin, blotches of it red and bleeding. newt didn’t need to be a doctor or a medjack to tell that the wound was untreatable; he knew there was nothing to be done for it—at least, nothing that  _he_  or any of the group could do, what with the little to none resources that they had. “i’m not going to make it,” he continued breathlessly, and newt's fists began to shake, helplessness clouding his vision. “please,” winston begged, outstretching his hand. “ _please_ —don’t let me turn in to one of those things.” 

the quiet that followed after was suffocating. everyone knew what he was asking. newt felt it deeply—winston wanted to die. he felt selfish, then, for wanting winston to stay alive, to keep on fighting. he knew there was no cure; no other path besides becoming one of those things; knew if the roles were reversed he’d beg for the very same thing winston was now; knew, with a clarity the rest of the group didn’t, what it felt like to be sure death was your only escape. 

newt felt himself transported back, to a time atop the maze walls. he was glad he’d made it out alive, then; was so very glad and thankful he got to live to see the hole in his chest start to fill, slowly but surely. but jumping had been _his_ choice—and that was part of the release he’d needed. if he could go back, newt wouldn’t change a thing. 

he stepped forward. taking the gun out of minho’s hands, newt moved to stand in front of winston. thomas grabbed on to his wrist, “wait, newt—“ he quivered, but newt pushed on, face tight. the others didn’t understand—and newt hoped they never would. 

he leant down, lightly placing the gun on winston’s chest. “thank you,” winston whispered, and newt didn’t comment on how wrong those words felt; he would shoulder this burden so the rest were free of it. “now,” winston added, shutting his eyes briefly. “get outta here.” 

“goodbye, winston,” newt murmured softly, sadly, the words feeling like cement in his mouth. he forced himself to stand. looking back one last time, newt grabbed his bag and walked away, the weight of his actions ringing heavy in his mind. he didn’t wait for the others to follow—knowing they would soon enough—stalking on with determination. newt prayed he could get far away enough, put as much distance between him and his actions as necessary—at least enough to ensure he wouldn’t hear the gun go off. 

he stilled, his whole body going frigid. the tears fell as he forced himself to continue on. his prayer wasn’t answered. 

 

-

 

_**harry**_  

harry couldn’t even make out what it was they were hidden under this time. it had been too dark to continue walking on safely, so the group had wordlessly collapsed underneath the nearest large ruin, minho and thomas scrounging around for wood to make a fire. that same fire was burning now, growing larger as aris dropped the stacks of wood he’d gathered onto it. 

no one had said a word since they’d left winston. the group had taken minutes after hearing the gunshot to recover from it, newt being the first to adamantly march on—but harry knew nobody had really gotten over it. harry wanted to be angry, to blame someone, anyone—newt, maybe. but he knew newt only did what needed to be done; he kept them from losing a friend in a way much worse than they had. if winston had turned because the group weren’t comfortable with the decision he wanted to make—anyone who got hurt after that was their own fault. winston knew that; newt knew that—and harry knew it, too; but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

harry hadn’t been all that close to winston. they’d talked frequently over the years he’d spent in the glade, and harry had always liked him; he was friendly, easy-going, and was one of the first people to properly help him settle in after coming up in the box. winston was everybody’s friend—and he didn’t deserve the fate that was dealt to him. 

their group was already so small. losing so many friends in such a short amount of time—harry was still surprised he was able to sleep at night. he knew, deep down, that they weren’t his fault; that it was _WICKED_ and the sick, twisted minds of its leaders—but he was so focused on his own survival, so focused on _louis_ ’, that it made him think about everyone else second; and _that_ was nobody’s fault but his own. 

harry didn’t like where that trail of thought was taking him. shaking his head, as if that single motion could clear it, he focused on louis beside him, who was gazing at the fire intensely, trapped inside of his own intrusive thoughts. there wasn’t much to eat; whatever they had had been taken from the first building they ransacked—and that was no more than a couple of multi-grain bars everybody prayed were still in date, a can or two of beans with the same problem—and the much too quickly diminishing water some of them had packed up. louis’ cheekbones had become slightly more prominent due to it—and harry knew, having seen it when he unwound his scarf before they sat in front of the fire, that his collarbones had sharpened, jutting out worryingly. 

the blue of his eyes were subdued by the warm glow of the fire, and harry almost might have spent the whole night staring at them when minho spoke up, “i thought we were supposed to be immune.” harry had thought the same thing, when winston had collapsed back on the sand. his forehead was burning up—but he held no other signs of a fever or infection—and when harry had seen the wound, right before they’d left him to die, it was clear; winston was _not_ immune. he had wondered while walking what that meant—WICKED were liars, that much they knew; but why were they sacrificing the lives of kids who _weren’t_ immune? his head supplied nothing but unpleasant answers. 

“not all of us, i guess,” louis muttered, scoffing darkly.

“if winston can get infected,” harry said, slowly, eyes returning to the fire. “we should assume so can the rest of us.” 

“i’d never thought i’d say it.” fry’s voice came out uneven, and harry’s chest tightened to see the tears still streaming down his face. “i miss the glade.” 

silence settled over his words. harry thought he’d never hated WICKED more; taking away so much that you craved the days of confinement; that you actually missed the place of your captivity. if harry ever saw janson again he would murder him without a second thought—ava, without blinking.  

 

-

 

thomas had left. newt had waited a couple of seconds before standing and joining him. minho was angrily slicing at a piece of wood, fry was staring unblinkingly at the fire and teresa and aris had moved away to lie down and get some rest. harry murmured that louis and him should do the same. louis remained gazing ahead for a couple of seconds before he nodded sharply, twisting on the log until his back was to the fire and then dropping on to the floor, his head against the log. harry mimicked his actions, lightly placing his own head on top of louis’. 

he waited, somehow knowing louis needed the quiet, leaving his hand upturned against his leg in open invitation. louis huffed a quiet laugh, grudgingly placing his hand in harry’s—but harry saw the small smile he suppressed. 

he was quiet for a moment longer and then—“i want to kill them all, harry,” he whispered, softly—though the words were no less fierce. 

harry nodded. “i know.” 

“every single one of them,” he continued. “all those i remember—and all those i don’t.” harry almost thought he was done when his breath hitched, and he cleared his throat. “thomas was right,” he admitted quietly. 

harry furrowed his brows. “right about what?” 

“whatever they injected in to me—” harry squeezed louis’ hand at that, louis returning the gesture. “i remember, harry. not all of it—but more. enough. thomas was _right_. we helped them do all of this— _i_ helped them.” 

he knew where this was going—harry was already shaking his head. “no—listen to me. you are not like them, okay? you _aren’t_ —“ 

louis cut him off, angrily retracting his hand, “i _watched_ thomas get taken away and i did _nothing_. i saw _newt_ —“ louis exhaled shakily, curling in on himself. “i’m just as bad as them.” 

“ _no_ ,” harry growled, the sound cutting through the otherwise silent space. he took a calming breath, then repeated himself, quieter, “ _no_. you are _nothing_ like them. how do we know what they showed you was the truth? it’s _WICKED_ , louis.” 

“it’s the truth.” 

“and you don’t think it’s suspicious that you’re only remembering times when you supposedly _helped_ them? can you remember what you were _thinking_ when you were doing it?”  

louis paused, considering. he shook his head. “i only see myself reacting; i don’t remember thinking anything.” 

“exactly.” harry hesitantly reached out for louis’ hand. louis let him take it, and he placed it against louis' beating heart. “this, right here, is you. the _real_ you—not some distorted version that acts without thought, that watches his friends die and doesn't do a single thing about it. i knew you, remember? and i’m learning you again—and what i _see_ , what i _know_ ; you are not the person they are showing you, louis.” 

harry felt louis’ heart speed up. they sat there, the both of them soaking in harry’s words. he couldn’t say it any clearer. harry would never believe what louis was saying; would _never_ doubt him. his resolve frightened him more than anything they had encountered—and he was sure, if he moved their hands to his own heart, it would be beating just as quick as it felt, each thrum sending out another wave of reassurance; he knew louis. he knew _his_ louis—there was no doubt about it.   

louis brought their hands up, his lips feather-light as he pressed a small, soft peck on to the inside of harry’s wrist. he faced harry fully, then, and gave him a genuine smile; one that harry felt light up his whole face, warming him much more than the fire had done. 

louis snorted, bringing his other hand to lightly rap against harry’s cheek. “you’re going to break your lips if you keep on smiling like that—stop it.” 

harry’s grin only grew bigger. “you might just have to kiss me before it happens.” the words were out before he even realised what he said. 

he stilled, warmth bleeding in to his cheeks, but louis only rolled his eyes. “maybe next time,” he said casually, but as he shuffled down to make himself more comfortable, harry saw the redness splayed across his face, the mirror to harry’s. 

“goodnight,” harry whispered, smile seemingly permanently etched on to his face. 

louis turned on his side, back to harry, hand still clutching his. “night, haz,” he murmured. harry shut his eyes. a few seconds passed and then, “stop smiling, you _clod_.” 

harry couldn’t contain his laugh.  

 

-

 

**_thomas_  **

_it’s okay_ , winston had said. thomas had been the last one to remain with him. his eyes pooling with tears, he whispered, “ _i’m sorry_." winston had only stared at him. _thomas—take care of them_. 

every time he shut his eyes he saw the wound, every time the fire crackled he heard the gun. 

fry’s words had been his breaking point. thomas was the one that had dragged them out of the glade. gally had been right all along; it was _his_ fault. he had only come and destroyed everything. 

thomas had the doll in his hands—chuck’s doll. just another reminder of a life he’d lost, a promise he’d broken. _it’s for my parents_. chuck had tried to give it to thomas that first time, when thomas was locked up in the glade—his punishment for running out in to the maze—but thomas refused, tucking it back in to chuck’s hands adamantly. _i want you to give that to them yourself, okay?_ he’d told him. _we’re going to get out of here—all of us. i promise_. 

and then he’d died, saving thomas; shoving the doll in to thomas’ hands with his last breaths, thomas’ promise a bitter ghost that followed him every step he took.

newt sat down beside him silently. thomas almost told him to leave— _almost_. 

“you haven’t slept a wink since we left the maze, have you?” he asked, but they both knew the answer to that. “listen,” newt said, gently. “frypan was just letting off steam.” 

“he’s right, though.” thomas couldn’t look him in the eye. “i’m the reason we’re stuck out here.” 

newt didn’t hesitate, his head shaking ardently. “ _no_ —no, you’re the reason we’re _free_.” thomas turned to look at him, newt’s eyes blazing with honesty. "now, look—the others may have their doubts, and that’s fine, but they would follow you _anywhere_.”

thomas almost choked on the truthfulness of the admission. “they follow you, too,” he felt he had to say, because it was true. newt was their leader long before thomas—second in command, after alby—and thomas would never hesitate to follow him. 

“no—it’s different with me, though—you know it is.” thomas had to look away again. he felt newt’s gaze on him, though, burning through his skin. “look, we all have our roles to play.” 

thomas felt so helpless, in that moment—as if he’d been stripped bare and was left with no direction, no end in sight. “newt, i don’t know where we’re going,” he admitted weakly. “i’m _lost_.”

“we’ve been lost before.” 

thomas shook his head, defeated. “yeah—not like this.” 

it was quiet—and then, “there is a place for us out there, somewhere,” newt started, voice unwavering and sure. “i don’t know where it is—but i do know an awful lot of our friends have _died_ for us to get this far. and so we can’t give up— _you_ can’t give up. i won’t let you.” thomas turned to him, his face so full of hope and determination—and thomas couldn’t bring himself to argue any further, to diminish the hope blaring so brightly across his face. 

newt gave him a soft smile, one thomas didn’t see often, and placed a comforting hand on his back. thomas knew his words were more helpful than he realised; newt's presence solidifying something deep inside him. 

with newt at his side, he thought—he could overcome anything. they’d already accomplished so much together. 

“go on, now.” newt’s voice cut through his thoughts, and thomas almost startled at how deeply he’d been staring at him; newt didn’t seem to mind. “get some sleep, yeah?” 

thomas gave a small nod, and newt stood. he ignored the sadness that begged him to ask newt to stay, watching forlornly as he returned to the fire. 

it took a while, but eventually, he managed to return to the group. the night had warmed, the fire little more than embers now. thomas didn’t bother rekindling it as he settled down beside newt, his words ringing through his head, loud enough to drown out the sound of the gunshot. _there is a place for us out there, somewhere_. thomas allowed himself to trace newt’s features, set alight by the dying fire and the early springs of morning light—and he knew, more sure than he had been of anything, that his place was right there, beside newt. 

 

-

 

 

they walked all through the next day—this time without the added obstacles of mountains of sand. thomas couldn’t decide if it was better or worse, the sun now shining straight down on them. the last of the water had been drained, minho angrily chucking his flask away once it was empty. the mountains loomed ahead, seemingly taunting the group the further they walked. every step closer made it seem like another extra mile. 

they slept on the floor. newt didn’t comment when thomas lay down a little closer to him than he usually would. thomas tried his hardest to shut his mind off and get some rest, but as the minutes ticked by and he found he was still wide awake, he sat up frustratedly. raking his hands through his hair, he surveyed the group, eyes roving over newt slowly, until they landed on teresa—and he was shocked to find her up, staring straight at him. 

standing, he walked the short distance to her and sat, their arms barely touching. thomas hadn’t seen her talk much the whole journey—she’d said a couple of words to louis and aris, but that had been it. for the most part, she kept to herself. thomas had wanted to speak to her since the time he saw her back in the med wing, but he’d never found the right time—he figured now was as good as any. 

teresa had her hand against the back of her neck. thomas had seen her rubbing it a couple times, but had put it down to cricks developed due to their uncomfortable sleeping positions. he went to ask her if she was okay when she pushed her hair to the side, revealing the nape of her neck to him. “they did something to me,” she murmured, facing away from thomas so he could better see. 

thomas reached up to pull down her scarf but hesitated. “can i?” he asked awkwardly, and she nodded. he lightly pushed the fabric out of the way—and barely made out what looked to be a tattoo of sorts, lines and dots joining together in a nonsense pattern. the skin around was red and irritated—it had been done recently. 

“at first it just felt like i was waking up from a dream or something,” she said, turning back around to face him. thomas pulled his hands away. “then they all started coming back.” 

his eyebrows rose. “your memories?” she nodded. “what do you remember?” 

“i remember the first time they brought you in.” thomas thought she looked sad as she said it—reminiscent. he wished he could remember her—more than he currently did. “i was taller than you, then—and faster.” she smiled at that, then suddenly it twisted—and it was as if she was looking at a ghost. “and i remember why we were there—we thought we could fix all this.” teresa shut her eyes and paused, taking a deep breath. when she opened them, there was steely determination. “i think we should go back.” 

thomas just stared, dumbfounded. “what?” 

“just listen to me—“

“what are you talking about?” he couldn’t believe it. “go _back_ —after everything they’ve done to us?” thomas knew she hadn’t been in the glade with them, but that only meant that she had _watched_. WICKED had restored her memories and she—was on their _side_? thomas felt his gut clench, alarm bells ringing in his head.

“it’s not that simple,” she begged, but he was shaking his head.

doing his best to keep his voice low, he replied cooly, “yeah, i think it is that simple.” 

“no—“ she was clenching her eyes shut frustratedly. “you don’t understand.” she was right, he didn’t—and couldn’t, not ever. thomas wanted to know what she had seen—what distorted memories janson had recovered. he couldn’t believe teresa—or any of them—would _willingly_ side with WICKED.

“what?  _what_ don’t i understand?” 

“everything was _fine_ until you—“ she cut herself off, looking away. 

thomas paused, eyes narrowing. “what?” 

teresa let out a breath, staring down at her hands. “nothing.” 

“teresa—what aren’t you telling us?” and thomas thought it was a fair question. he didn’t know how deep their bond ran, but he figured they’d at least been good friends—good enough that he felt like he deserved to know what she was keeping from him. thomas couldn’t shake the feeling that it was vital. 

teresa stared at him, in the unnerving way that she did; thomas wanted to tell her the cold resolve wasn’t enough to cover the guilt she so clearly harboured. she didn’t answer his question, and he didn’t push. they might have been friends, once, but thomas had no clue what they were now. when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anymore, he left her to lie down, moving back to his spot beside newt, facing the mountains in the distance. 

he shut his eyes, once, twice, angrily glaring ahead when sleep still refused to come—and then he was awake for an entirely different reason, shifting up on to his elbows to squint in to the distance. his eyes widened, and he rubbed at them—making sure this wasn’t the product of sleep deprivation. it was still there when he was done—the undeniable blur of lights, straight ahead. 

“hey.” thomas sat up fully now, coughing at how dry his throat felt. “hey! get up.” he heard newt stir beside him and tapped his chest. “newt, get up. come on, let’s go—get up. harry, louis—i see something.” 

“what?” newt asked groggily, shifting on to his knees. “what is it? what—“ 

“you see that?” everyone was standing as thomas pointed towards what he’d seen. “it’s lights.” 

minho huffed disbelievingly. “we made it.”

there wasn’t time to revel in the knowledge. behind, a large _boom!_ rumbled through the sky and thomas jumped. he turned, eyes on the enormous grey cloud that had formed not too far away from them, flashes of lightning shooting across it. a bolt slammed down, shaking the ground where the gladers stood. the clouds were overtaking the sky around them. “let’s go.” thomas pulled newt with him as he stumbled back. “we gotta go—come on.” the group grabbed their backpacks and he repeated himself, urgency lacing his voice. “come on, let’s go. let’s go!” 

the lightening was getting louder—closer. everyone was running. “hurry!” minho yelled. 

the lights had turned in to a building, and they were almost to it. a bolt shot down a handful of metres away. “keep moving!” thomas ordered. “come on!” the next one dropped less than a metre away from newt. “go, go, go!” 

“we’re getting closer!” minho encouraged. 

the building was just before them. “get inside!” thomas yelled. “go!” 

they were almost to it. another bolt fell behind him and thomas heard minho cry out, his own body being blasted away at the proximity. he pushed up blearily, ears ringing. his eyes landed on minho—he was smoking. “minho!” he couldn’t hear his own voice. thomas ran to him, pushing on his chest. “come help him!” he didn’t know if he was saying the words out loud—he must have; aris briefly coming in to view, newt and harry following as they reached down to lift minho up. 

“come on, get him up!” it was newt—thomas could hear him. the lightning was raining down furiously. thomas pushed himself to run as fast as he could, yelling for the others to keep going. 

“move!” fry was at the door, urging them on. “come on! hurry up!” 

aris and harry dragged minho inside, thomas pushing in after them. once they were all in, fry slammed the door viciously. it was dark inside, the only sounds the heavy breaths of the gladers. 

“put him down!” newt ordered. “watch his head.” 

“who’s got a light?” thomas asked. 

a flashlight clicked on, louis holding it over minho’s unconscious form. “minho!” thomas yelled, grabbing fistfuls of his clothes and shaking him. “come on, come on.” 

“minho!” newt tried. 

“come on, minho,” fry prayed. 

newt was heaving. “ _come on_ , man.” 

they waited, thomas’ heart in his throat, and then—minho groaned. a chorus of exhales sounded, fry mumbling out a, “there he is.” 

“are you okay?” 

minho raised his hands, staring up at them in bewilderment—they were blackened around the edges. “what happened?” 

thomas felt like choking on his relief. “i think you got struck by lightning.” 

minho’s eyebrows raised, disbelief lacing his voice, “ _whoa_.” 

“come on, let’s get him up,” newt said. “nice and slow.” 

“think you can get up?” thomas asked him gently. 

minho nodded, and harry and aris helped lift him to his feet. “thanks, guys,” he breathed. 

thomas had grabbed the flashlight from louis. he used it now to illuminate the way they’d come in, making sure there was still a viable exit should this place be more dangerous than outside—though he doubted they’d really leave, if that was the case. 

“hey,” teresa said. thomas flashed the light on her briefly before flicking it back over to minho, checking him over. “what’s that smell?” 

she clicked her own flashlight on, screaming as she stumbled back. thomas rushed forward, hands on her arms as he pulled her away from the crank’s outstretched hands. the crank fell, and multiple lights flickered on—the other gladers having located their own flashlights—to uncover the chain wrapped around it. 

“behind you!” louis yelled, and thomas just barely pushed away, another crank reaching for him—and coming short, its own chain keeping it back. they were all around, screeching and gargling, but restrained. 

“oh, shit!” there were more than thomas could count, all having been awakened by the lights and sounds. 

“i see you’ve met our guard dogs,” came an amused voice. flashlights shot in its direction, a light on the far end of the room turning on to illuminate a figure stood just outside a door. 

“who’s that?” minho breathed. 

thomas squinted, but could see no more than a silhouette—a female, judging by her voice. she walked to them, calmly passing through the hordes of outstretched hands—all just inches away from grabbing on to her. she came to stand directly in front of thomas, eyes dancing with amusement. “you guys look like shit,” she noted. “come on, follow me.” she turned and began walking back the way she’d come, pausing to look over her shoulder when the group didn’t follow. raising her eyebrows, she said, “unless you want to stay here with them?” thomas decidedly _did not_ want to. 

 

-

 

**_louis_  **

they followed the girl further in to the building. louis couldn’t get away from the chained cranks fast enough, separating from harry to walk quickly to the door the girl had appeared in. the building was much lager inside than it had been outside—though, louis hadn’t really taken much time to observe it, having been occupied in trying not to get burned alive by lightning. 

there were lights strung up everywhere—it had been the reason thomas spotted the building in the first place—and louis couldn’t help but worry about how that made them an open target for the aircraft and helicopters that had passed by a couple of days ago. they hadn’t seen them since—but louis didn’t doubt they were still out there, searching. 

fires were lit in barrels, weary faces watching the group pass with apprehension. “come on,” the girl said. "keep up—jorge wants to meet you.” louis didn’t particularly want to meet jorge, though.  

they followed her up a flight of stairs before thomas finally spoke up, “who’s jorge?” 

the girl sent back a smirk. “you’ll see,” was all she said. they passed more fires and hesitant faces—louis wondered how they managed to survive out there; what they lived on—he found it hard to believe they grew any crops out in the sun, and there looked to be no means of water supply anywhere near. “no one’s come out of the scorch in a long time,” she said—and he didn’t doubt that one bit; they very nearly hadn't. “you’ve just got him curious.” she paused, deciding, then added, “and me too.” 

louis turned to see some of the people scattered around begin to follow behind the group—a particularly large man grinning down at him wolfishly. he couldn’t help but think of it as the gladers being surrounded, front and behind. he spotted harry in front of aris and wanted no more than to be at his side—but he figured that was an all too obvious show of his discomfort, so he schooled his features in to nonchalance and followed on, hoping he looked as unperturbed as he didn’t feel. 

“anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?” newt muttered under his breath and louis held himself back from snorting.

“glad i’m not the only one,” he replied quietly. 

“let’s just hear him out,” thomas said assuredly, “see what he has to say.”  and, well—if anything, they were too far in to do much else. 

more lefts and rights, another flight of stairs—louis’ gut clenching painfully the further they walked; a warning, he knew—and they were in a room scattered with bits of broken machinery, a man standing amidst it, his back to them. “jorge,” the girl said, announcing their presence. “they’re here.” 

“sh.” jorge held up a finger, and then louis heard it—the static. he was fiddling with a radio, voices coming in and out of focus. with a frustrated grunt, he pulled out a wire, the radio going silent. the group huddled in closer, and louis used that as his cue to subtly slide over to harry—and, much to his surprise, harry didn’t even turn to face him; his hand reaching out to grasp louis’ without question. 

the girl had taken a seat on one of the many couches spread around the open area. jorge finally turned, hands on his hips as he addressed the group, “do you ever get the feeling that the whole world’s against you?” thomas glanced at louis at the question, eyebrows raised slightly as if asking what the hell they’d gotten themselves in to—louis shrugged, doing his best to hold in a laugh. “three questions,” jorge continued, interrupting the silent exchange. “where did you come from?” he walked forward to the table before him, grabbing the jug atop it. “where are you going?” he inspected a glass, pouring himself a drink once he deemed it suitable. “how can i profit?” this question he directed at thomas, eyes firmly holding his gaze. when the group remained silent he flared his arms out dramatically. “don’t all answer at once!” 

“we’re headed for the mountains,” thomas ventured cautiously. “looking for the right arm.”

the surrounding people laughed at that, jorge staring down at the ground in silent amusement. “you’re looking for ghosts, you mean.” swallowing the contents of the glass, he stepped forward, voice booming as he said, “second question— _where_ did you come from?” 

“that’s our business,” minho replied curtly. 

jorge looked thoughtful, taking minho’s words in for all of two seconds before he gave a short nod, and the surrounding people leaned in to grab the gladers, restraining their arms. 

“hey!” thomas yelled, resisting. louis himself was fidgeting against a scrawny-looking woman who’d stepped forward—clearly her appearance was deceiving; he was pushed to the floor with little to no effort on her part, harry’s hand being ripped out of his. “ _get off me_! get the hell off me, man!” louis watched as the girl jumped off of the couch, grabbing something to her left.

“shut up, you big baby,” she reprimanded thomas, shoving his neck down. lifting what appeared to be a scanner of sorts, she held it up to the nape of thomas’ neck, ignoring his question of what it was. scoffing down at the results in disbelief, she nodded at jorge. “you were right.”

jorge grabbed a pair glasses from the inside of his jacket, placing them on swiftly as he took the device from the girl’s hands, looking at the results for himself. louis knew it said nothing in their favour. 

“right about what?” thomas demanded. “what is she talking about?” 

jorge huffed out a laugh. “i’m sorry, hermano—looks like you’re tagged.” louis had a pretty good idea where this was going. he turned to look at harry, who was staring at him worriedly—his hands bound behind him by the large man with the wolfish grin—as jorge confirmed his suspicions, “you came from WICKED—which means.” jorge paused—whether for dramatic flare or to give the gladers enough time for the panic to fully settle in, louis didn’t know, but his smile grew feline as he finished, "you’re _very_ valuable.” 


End file.
